The Spaces Between Shadows & Night
by Silver Prophet
Summary: Chp 13 uploaded 08-08-04 As Draco battles with his future, Harry battles with a darkness that has settled over his heart. A fifth year tale that explores the feelings and emotions that can not be explained. HarryDraco
1. Prologue

**The Spaces Between Shadows & Night**

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

**Prologue**

The only real chaos of Platform 9¾ was the insistent yelling of the first years, making Draco Malfoy's head ache low in the base of his skull. 

He remained completely indifferent to every single person surrounding him, his finely chiselled features; slender none, taut cheekbones, silver blonde hair, icy grey eyes; a perfect picture of the disdaining aristocrat. He neatly side stepped a huge, black shaggy dog that came bouncing through the crowds, barking happily. 

"Mister Malfoy, how pleasant to see you again." 

A clear slightly amused voice trickled in behind him. Draco didn't need to turn to question the identity of the voice. 

"The pleasure is all mine, _Professor_," murmured Draco smoothly as Remus Lupin stepped in beside him, his face free from emotion, a hint of a smirk gracing the edges of his pale mouth. 

"You'll have to excuse Snuffles, he can be a bit excitable." Draco raised an eyebrow. 

Lupin gestured towards the dog, who was currently having his ears scratching by some cooing second year Hufflepuffs. Draco shrugged, turning to observe the shaggy mutt, tongue lolling out, eyes almost closed, with vague disgust. He had never been much of a dog person, preferring the company of cats. 

Remus suddenly saw a figure come through the barrier and called out above the heads of the swarming students and parents, his hand raised in familiar greeting. "Harry!" 

Snuffles instantly turned and almost threw a third year Ravenclaw to the ground in the rush to reach Harry's side. Draco immediately scowled. _Potter!_

Harry walked towards Lupin and Draco in a slow steady step, scattering the crowd without noticing, ignoring the stares in his direction, Snuffles bouncing all around him like a kangaroo. He had the air of someone who didn't really give a toss about what everyone else was doing. Draco was suitably impressed.

As Harry drew closer, Draco noted his unusual paleness, the kind of tan that came from living underground; his hair hung limply around his maturing face, not even having the energy to stand up at the back. His body seemed longer too, lankier than Draco remembered; his movements loose as if he wasn't held together properly at the joints; his haunted eyes very serious. 

"Hi Professor," Harry half-smiled at Lupin as the snowy white owl launched from Lupin's shoulder to alight on Harry's, giving his ear an affection nip. Harry stroked her back gently as he inclined his head towards Draco. "Malfoy."

Draco felt like he'd been slapped, he couldn't have been more shocked if Snape had just turned up in a glitter suit and danced the Time Warp. Harry Potter's voice sounded at if it had travelled a thousand miles just to get to his lips; it sounded like the silence just before the sky rumbled in a thunderstorm; it sounded like the emptiness that filled Draco's heart whenever the Dementors came too close. Bleak, flat, mundane…emotionless. Two concepts that were always linked in Draco's mind were 'Harry Potter' and 'emotion' – they went hand-in-glove together, and yet…_obviously not_, mused Draco, still stinging with shock.

"How are you Harry?" Lupin spoke quietly, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder as it shrugged under his touch. Snuffles sat beside him protectively and butted his hand with his hand, earning an unconscious scratch under the ear. Suddenly, Draco saw why people looked at Harry the way they did. Even washed out, pale, tired, emotionless; even in Muggle clothing that was miles too big for him, with Snuffles sitting at his side protectively, Hedwig on one shoulder, his spine straight and tall – Harry was the picture of a Hero, of a Great Wizard That Deserved Capital Letters. Draco shook his head of such thoughts, resuming his scowl quickly before anyone could see that his mask had slipped briefly. 

Harry took a moment to answer the question. "M'ok,"

Draco raised an eyebrow unintentionally, _pull the other one Potter, it plays jingle bells_. But before anything more could be said, a voice interrupted them.

"Harry!" It was Hermione. The brown haired witch raced up to Harry, throwing her arms around him almost knocking him to the ground, Hedwig taking off and alighting back on Lupin's shoulder to get out of the way. Draco scowled harder, _nice one Granger, but please, keep the public displays of affection to an absolute minimum_.

"Hermione!" Harry sounded faintly startled, his emerald eyes widening. Hermione drew back quickly, embarrassed of her lack of self-control before remembering why she was so happy to see him in the first place.

"Harry James Potter _where have you been_?!" Hermione was drawing on hysterical. 

Harry sighed with deep feeling before saying one single word. "Cupboard."

Draco had always thought that his father was the only person on Earth that could grey with pure anger before that moment, but Granger proved him wrong, and he was even more shocked when she, Hermione Granger, top student and _Lady_ did the unthinkable. She swore. Loudly.

"Fuck!" she was absolutely seething, her voice raised at least an octave and Draco could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. He was rooted to the spot. It was _fascinating_. "I'm going to kill them Harry, I swear I'm going to kill them!"

"Miss _Granger_, calm yourself please!" Remus Lupin jumped into the conversation swiftly.

"Yeah Granger, have a little self control," drawled Draco. Hermione jumped, seeing him for the first time, her fists balled, trying to relieve the stress. She shot him a look that was pure venom, making him quickly realise that if he didn't tread very careful then he'd end up with another slap across the face like the one he had received in third year. He'd swear to anyone who'd listen that he could still feel it hurting at times.

"Sorry Professor Lupin, I apologise," Hermione turned back to her best friend, disregarding Draco again completely, eyes flashing, worry etched in every motion of her body. "Why didn't you _write_? Did you get all of the letters I wrote you…and Hedwig didn't turn up for your birthday present like she usually does."

Harry answered carefully, his tone stretched at seeing his best friend so worried. "I sent Hedwig to Professor Lupin as soon as I could with a letter for Dumbledore and asked him to take care of her for me. As for your letters," he sounded vaguely bitter, a strange sound to Draco's ears, not used to Harry sounding as such. "I have little doubt that the Dursley's saw them as anything more than fire kindling." He set his jaw firmly, before changing the subject suddenly. "Where's Ron?"

Hermione stared at him critically before forcefully dropping the subject. "Already at Hogwarts. He travelled down with Bill whose going to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. He, Ginny and the twins all went with him a couple of days ago. Molly thought they'd be safer with Bill." she paused regretfully. "They've been so worried about you. _I've_ been so worried about you."

"I'm fine Mione," -- Even Draco didn't believe this for one single second. -- "All I want now is to get on the train and leave the damned Muggle world behind for a while."

Hermione sighed deeply. "Yes, yes, lets," a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Harry, what about your _school books_? I've been in Diagon Alley for the past week because you would have had to get them eventually, but you never turned up."

"Remus got them for me," Draco was momentarily confused until he realised that Lupin's first name was Remus. "Professor McGonagall had her instructions to send the list there. After all, we couldn't have Hagrid breaking down another door, now could we?" Harry grinned slightly as Hermione giggled at this obviously private joke.

Lupin chose that moment to jump into the conversation, holding a substantial package forward. "Harry, you're books and things are in here, as well as some money from your vault. There are some new robes with a special 'to fit' charm on them, so they should fit you straight away…I stocked up on your potion ingredients, quills, ink, scrolls and a few other things as well. Your birthday present from me and Snuffles is also in there."

"Thanks," Harry smiled at him gratefully, and took the package from him carefully, showing his thin hands to Draco's disgust, paper thin and worn finger pads, like someone who had written so much because there was nothing else to do. "I appreciate it," Snuffles barked again, wagging his tail furiously. "Thanks Snuffles." Harry passed the package to Hermione, who also frowned in disgust at Harry's hands, one of the only parts of him visible, and he knelt down to hug the black, shaggy dog. Snuffles licked the side of his face affectionately, tail wagging so hard it was nearly a blur. 

Harry stood back up and tapped his left shoulder, which was quickly occupied with Hedwig again, and opened the train door, holding it open for Hermione, who slid past him after patting Snuffles goodbye. "Goodbye Professor. And thanks."

"Goodbye Harry. Have a good term…I may come up to the school for Christmas, so you'll see Snuffles and myself then. Come on Snuffles…time to go."

The dog gave Harry's hand one final lick before trudging to Lupin's side and the two vanished into the crowd. Harry watched them go, a far off look on his face, until they vanished from sight. He turned to Draco, his face expressionless, taking in the motionless blonde Slytherin with a quiet contemplation.

"Malfoy," his tone was completely civil as he nodded his head towards him, no mocking involved.

"Potter," inclined Draco, not letting his surprise show through his careful mask of indifference.

Harry boarded, closing the door firmly behind him.

Draco remained rooted to the spot.

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~


	2. Harry: A Decision Is Made

**The Spaces Between Shadows & Night**

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

Chapter One  
A Decision Is Made 

Sirius gave Harry's hand one final lick before standing at Lupin's side. The two vanished into the crowd and Harry watched them go until they vanished from sight. He turned to Malfoy, his face expressionless, taking in the Slytherin.

"Malfoy."

"Potter." 

Closing the door firmly behind him, and leaving Malfoy outside (where he belonged in Harry's opinion), Harry followed Hermione into an empty compartment. After spending so long in the cupboard at Privet Drive, loud noises seemed even louder to Harry. 

He settled into a seat opposite Hermione and sighed, taking a glance out of the window. Students were still meandering around on the platform even though there was only a couple of minutes left until the train left.

It seemed that when Harry and Hermione had boarded the train, Pansy Parkinson, a fifth year Slytherin who was probably the least attractive girl in their year, had descended on Malfoy. She appeared to be yelling at the blonde boy, who only had the mildest look of shock on his face. It was as though he wasn't really paying any attention to her and his thoughts were somewhere else.

Harry took a second to realise that Hermione was staring at him. He turned towards her, noticing the expectant look in her brown eyes. "So?" she asked curiously.

"You did something different with your hair," Harry commented flatly, feeling that talking was draining all of his energy.

Hermione's hand flew to her head, touching her hair, the top part of which had been secured away from her face with a scarlet and gold ribbon. She grinned guiltily. "I thought it was time for a change," she admitted. She frowned, realising that Harry was avoiding the subject. "Why did they do it, Harry? What on _earth possessed those horrible Muggles to keep you in that __awful cupboard?"_

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Dunno. All I know is that they got a letter from Dumbledore as soon as we got home. I didn't even have time to sit down before they shoved me in the cupboard."

Noticing the way that she fiddled with a button on her school blouse, Harry asked, "What is it, Hermione?"

"It's child abuse!" she exclaimed, looking up. "Why didn't you do anything? You're probably one of the most powerful Wizards I've ever met and you did nothing?"

"I didn't want to get expelled."

He was sure that she would relent at this. After all, this was _Hermione Granger, the girl who prioritized school and studying over her life. But she didn't. "Like that would have ever stopped you before!"_

Avoiding her gaze, Harry stared out of the window, watching the landscape speed by. It appeared that the train had started moving with out them even realising. "Harry! Harry, look at me!" she demanded, a look of pure anger spread across her face.

Scowling, Harry forced himself to look at her. The normally calm and collected Hermione looked wild and angry with him. He had seen her angry before, but this was something completely different. "What has got into you?" she asked. "It's like you're not even the same person anymore!"

"I _am the same person," Harry informed her, meeting her rational tone._

His friend shook her head. "I don't know if you are, Harry. You're acting more like..." she paused slightly, trying to think of the right word to use, "..._Malfoy, than yourself. Being in that cupboard all summer has obviously affected you more than you think."_

She stood, then sat next to Harry, taking one of his hands in his. "We all care a lot about you, Harry. Me, Ron, Remus and Snuffles. Everyone. Please, don't shut us out." Her tone was almost that of begging.

Harry removed his hand from Hermione's clasp. He looked at her solemn face. "I'll try not to. Can we change the subject? Anyway, I'm not the only one who's changed." He looked at her curiously. "I've never heard you swear Hermione - it's not like the Hermione Granger I know."

She looked pensive, staring at her shoes. "The Hermione Granger you know decided that she needs to grow up a bit." Slowly, she extracted something from her pocket. Holding it in her hand, she thumbed her silver Prefect's badge. "I got this last week," she said quietly.

"You don't sound too happy about that," Harry commented. He had been expecting Hermione to be bouncing off the walls with excitement when she finally became a Prefect. She seemed almost... _disappointed. Hermione shrugged._

"I thought I would be. You're not exactly chuffed with yours either."

Harry too had been announced as a Prefect. Sirius and Remus had told him. When Sirius had given him the badge, he had put on a show of being disappointed with Harry, but Harry had seen the mischievous twinkle in his Godfather's eyes.

"I'm not keeping it," he told her after a second. Instead of becoming angry with him, Hermione nodded.

"I didn't think you would," she admitted. "Dumbledore said you probably weren't going to keep it."

"You've spoken to him?"

"He wrote to me. Says Dean Thomas will take the position if you don't want it." She smiled weakly at him. "Are you sure you're not going to take it?" There was a hint of hope in her voice; although she wouldn't openly admit to it, she really wanted Harry to take the position.

"I'm sure."

"Oh." Hermione stood up, brushing down her skirt. "I'm hungry so I'm going to look for the tea trolley. Do you want me to get you anything? Some Chocolate Frogs?"

As soon as she mentioned food, Harry heard his stomach rumble loudly. Hermione grinned for a second, before looking concerned. ""I'll take that as a yes," she said. "Um, why don't you get changed while I'm gone? And try to wake up a bit. Or get some rest. I'm not sure if you're suffering from insomnia or exhaustion." With another small smile, Hermione disappeared, closing the door behind her.

Sighing, Harry tore open the package Remus had given him. He placed the school books (there seemed to be a substantial amount this year) on the seat next to him, and unfolded the robes. Pulling off the over large clothes that had once belonged to his cousin, Dudley, (also known as the amazing walking blimp) and he quickly changed, though he didn't bother putting on his scarlet and gold tie.

As the Hogwarts Express hurtled through a tunnel, Harry caught a glimpse of himself in the window. He hadn't seen his reflection for so long he was almost shocked. _Do I really look like that?  he wondered._

Harry was paler than he remembered, and quite thinner, but in a strange way it almost seemed to suit him. He looked more mature, almost commanding. The famous lightning bolt scar that was his trademark was barely visible beneath his hair which hung almost limply around his face. He was glad that, for once, it wasn't sticking up at the back.

_If only my parents could see me now, he mused. __I bet they never thought I'd end up like this. They didn't exactly plan on dying though, did they? He frowned. Harry silently hoped that their death's were not in vain. While spending many hours in the cupboard, had had something on an epiphany - he __had to defeat Voldemort, whatever the consequences. __I just hope I can count on Ron and Hermione. _

Sifting through the various school supplies, Harry found a small leather pouch of Galleons. He shoved it into his pocket, then, rather unceremoniously, dumped the rest of his belongings in his trunk, swiftly catching a bottle of ink, that changed colours as you wrote, before it could hit the case of his Broomstick Servicing Kit.

Where Hermione returned, she was smiling broadly, and carrying the largest pile of sweets that Harry had seen since his first year. They poured out of her arms onto the seat next to Harry. "Dig in," she told him.

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed several different items and began ripping the labels off, eating as fast as he could.

Just as he was about to shove the fourth Chocolate Frog into his mouth, Hermione's hand whipped out and grabbed his wrist. "Slow down," she warned. "You'll make yourself ill."

Harry swallowed the chocolate and grinned at her, a real smile lighting up his face, not a pretend-smile he had used around Sirius and Remus at the train station. "I missed you, Hermione."

A puzzled expression crossed Hermione's face. "I was only gone for a couple of minutes?"

"I meant this summer. Sometimes I thought I'd never get out of that cupboard."

"Oh. I missed you too, Harry."

~~ ~~~ ~~

At Hogwarts, Ron was waiting for Harry and Hermione outside the Great Hall, a large grin on his freckled face. He looked suntanned, as though he had spent a great deal of the summer outside.

Hermione enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug as she had done with Harry. Ron turned rather red at this display. Hermione simply grinned at him.

"Hullo, Hermione. Blimey, Harry - you look rough!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, as she adjusted her Prefects badge.

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's go get some seats - I'm starving." He led them into the Great Hall, and just as they were taking their seats, Professor McGonagall led the new first years in.

All of the new first years looked absolutely terrified, except for a couple who stared confidently at the Slytherin table, almost as if they knew they were going to be Sorted into Slytherin.

For the second time that day, Harry realised someone was staring at him. Glancing quickly around the Great Hall, he noticed Draco Malfoy looking directly at him, a blank, unreadable expression on his face. It wasn't like he was staring into space though; there was a strange look in his eyes which locked onto Harry's, sending a shiver down his spine.

Scowling, the blonde Slytherin looked away to his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle who actually _were as stupid as they looked._

Harry turned his attention back to the front of the Great Hall, where McGonagall was making her customary speech to the first years. He smiled inwardly seeing the reactions from some of them when the Sorting Hat was placed on the old wooden stool.

Near the brim, what appeared to be a rip opened up and it began to sing;

_"Another Hogwarts year has started,_

_Another year has begun,_

_So I shall now Sort our new first years_

_Before the school song is sung._

_You may be placed in Gryffindor,_

_And stand proud in red and gold;_

_Those mighty Lions are_

_Both brave and bold._

_Or perhaps Hufflepuff's your place,_

_The wearers of yellow and black -_

_Our patient workers are loyal and true,_

_And they never ever  slack._

_Slytherin is another choice,_

_The house of silver and green,_

_Those ambitious Snakes are_

_Not as mean as they seem._

_Or perhaps Ravenclaw_

_Coloured with pride in bronze and blue,_

_The house of the witty and wise_

_Might be just the place for you._

_So now you have met me,_

_The Hogwarts Sorting Hat,_

_Just put me on,_

_And we'll have a little chat."_

The Great Hall erupted into vigorous applause; Harry heard the Weasley twins catcalling, and the three Gryffindor Chasers, Angelina, Katie and Alicia, trying to quiet them down.

Professor McGonagall stepped out in front of the first years, holding a long piece of parchment. "When I call your name, sit on the stool and put on the hat to be Sorted. Addley, Cerys."

A short girl with shocking red hair (almost Weasley-red) strode out of the line, and calmly sat on the stool. She disappeared under the hat and after a moment of mumbling, it yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The look on her face was one of pure shock. Obviously she hadn't been expecting this as she glanced in panic at the Slytherin table. Amid the applause, she took at seat at the Hufflepuff table, looking terribly embarrassed.

There were several new Gryffindors who joined them at the table. Harry noticed a pair of boys who reminded him strongly of himself and Ron on their first day at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore stood when the last first year had been Sorted. A hush fell over the Hall. "I am sure you are eager to begin the Feast," Harry was sure he cast a glance in Ron's direction, "so I will only say a few words: Schnoogle! Glomp! Meeble!"

There was another storm of applause from the students, and a second later the food prepared in the kitchens below appeared on the golden plates, sounding many gasps from Muggle-born first years.

Harry heard a new first year who was sat next to Ron ask, "Is Professor Dumbledore a bit mad?"

Ron grinned at the sandy-haired first year. "Professor Dumbledore is one of the greatest Wizards of our time! But yes, he is a bit mad." Harry couldn't help but snigger at this, and Ron cast him a curious look whilst picking up a piece of chicken. "What?" he demanded.

"You're starting to sound like Percy." Ron turned white. He turned to Hermione for help, but she just nodded and Ron groaned.

"Kill me now."

The laughter of Harry, Hermione and the various Weasley's at Ron's embarrassed face cut straight into Harry. This was exactly how he wanted to remember Hogwarts and his friends. If there was a way to make a moment last forever, he want to keep this moment. All those weeks in the darkened cupboard at the Dursley's were worth it just to come back to Hogwarts and be with his friends. This was what life was all about.

When Dumbledore had addressed the school (making sure that everyone know the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds and that Filch, the grouchy caretaker, had banned several more items from the premises) they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione reveling in leading the new first years and explaining everything to them.

"You really need to get a haircut, Harry, mate," said Fred, purposely rubbing Harry's hair, making it go in all directions. Scowling good-naturedly, Harry flattened it.

"You're going to have hair like Bill's soon!" added George, standing on the other side of Harry.

"And what's wrong with my hair?" a voice demanded. Bill Weasley, the eldest of the Weasley children, stepped out in front of them. He hadn't changed much since the last time Harry had seen him after the Tri Wizard Tournament, although he was wearing formal robes in a dark navy. He still had the red ponytail, though it was longer than before, and the fang still hung proudly from his ear. His dragon hide boots were also visible beneath his robes.

Grinning, Fred stood next to his brother, and finger his ponytail. "Your hair's getting a bit long dear, are you sure you don't want me to cut it for you?" he asked, mimicking Molly Weasley, who insisted that her son's hair was far too long and needed a decent trim.

"You sound so much like mum it's spooky," said Ron.

"That woman is our idol," said George. "She gives us some of the best ideas for pranks without realising it!" Fred nodded in agreement.

"She's a genius."

"Hmm." Bill didn't look too impressed.

"Did you want something, _Professor Weasley?" asked Ginny._

"Oh, lay off Gingernut," he frowned. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to see Harry, Hermione and some boy called Dean."

"Gingernut?" asked Harry. "I've never heard that one before!"

"Bill!" wailed Ginny.

The other three Weasley boys snickered. 

"Oh, look. Is this a convention? 'Get Four Weasels Get One Free'?" the mocking voice of Draco Malfoy interrupted their conversation. They all wheeled around to see the Slytherin smirking at them, obviously pleased with his little joke.

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled like the morons they were. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy trained them to laugh on command.

"Lay off, Malfoy," he ordered. Even though Malfoy's face was expressionless, Harry was sure he saw a flicker of surprise in those cold grey eyes. Harry was surprised at how commanding his voice, still slightly brittle from weeks of not talking, could sound.

"Let's go," Malfoy muttered to his supposed friends, and they took off at high speed.

He turned back to the others. "What?" They all looked surprised with him.

"Are you _sure you don't want to be a Prefect, Harry?" asked Bill._

Harry answered slowly, making sure he got the words right. "I'm sure."

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

**Authors Notes:**

Firstly, on behalf of Natasha and myself, I'd like to thank our reviewers so far: Avalon Princess, JadeDragon, chrisseee667, beautiful disaster, bwaybaby79.  You're all brilliant.

Hopefully the next two chapters will be up relatively soon – they're being beta-read as I speak (or write, which ever way you want to look at it.

But in the mean time, you might want to head over and read the rest of my fics at http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=220756 (except bwaybaby79 – I know full well that she's already read them all!) – some usefully propaganda never hurt anyone!

Thanks again for reading.

Amy

(poetic licence)


	3. Draco: What The Facts Add Up To

****

The Spaces Between Shadows & Night

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

****

Chapter 2  
_What The Facts Add Up To_

Halfway to Hogwarts, Draco was still unable to throw off the confused jumble of ideas in his mind. 

How Potter had looked, bone thin and raged, his hands covered with rice paper instead of skin, the knuckles dark with blood; the hollows in his face more obvious than ever. And Granger _swearing_…_that's certainly a turn-up for the books_, thought pondered to himself, _I never knew she had it in her_. 

He scowled at Pansy, who had been chattering mindless, mindlessly being the only way she could operate, ever since accosting him on the platform, angry at him for not writing to him over the summer. _I've got more important things to worry about than writing to Miss Pug Face_, growled his Inner-Draco. Even in Slytherin Pansy was a simpering joke with too much make-up. Too little brains and too much ambition, becoming Mrs Draco Malfoy being number one on her list, which made her a definite bane in Draco's existence. 

__

And speaking of too little brains, next on the Slytherin channel…

Draco shifted his attention to his two 'friends' Crabbe and Goyle, who had the intelligence of half a boiled egg between the two of them. They were the brawn - Draco told them what to hit and how hard it hit it and that's exactly what they did. Repeatedly if it didn't lie down and shut up the first time. 

But even here, surrounded by Slytherins, reverting to God-like status that came from money and prestige, both of which he had in abundance, Draco was unsettled.

When Vince suddenly made use of his one brain cell and suggested they go harass 'Potty and the Gryffindorks', Draco had told him sharply to sit down and shut up, making everyone in the carriage start with surprise, including himself. Pansy stared at him as if he'd gone off his tree.

He had waved it off with some fast thinking, something that he was excellent at. "The Weasel isn't there. You can't just pick on two of the Tosser Trio, it _has_ to be a complete set you idiots, otherwise what's the fun? Go annoy the Hufflepoufs if you want. I'm having a nap."

Luckily, they'd bought it, and all clumped out together, taking the sickening Pansy ('Are you alright Draco? Do want some water Draco? Something to eat Draco?') with them.

Draco closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window, blonde hair falling out of place over his eyes, feeling the train shake and rattle along the tracks, feeling faintly queasy. What the hell was he thinking?

And with that last uneasy thought, sleep encumbered him.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Draco was still feeling out of sorts when the train pulled into the station and everyone piled into the horseless carriages, except the first years that all scrambled for the boats in Hagrid's imposing shadow. Darkness was gathering rapidly, the night seemed darker in sympathy with Draco's mood, still unsettled from his encounter with Potter on the platform. The lanterns swung as the castle loomed into visibility, a menacing force rising out of the cliff-face.

Draco's carriage swung close to another, and he scowled when he saw Finnigan's head stick out the window, taking in the view of the school, before turning back to say something back into his own carriage. Hermione's face joined him for a moment, her brown hair dyed black in the faded light, her face set.

Draco drew a breath. _Wherever Granger is, Potter's not far behind_.

He was proved correct when Finnigan and Granger dropped out of sight and Harry popped into view, his face even more gaunt in the minimalist light, his hair as lifeless as his eyes, staring hollowly towards Hogwarts. Draco watched his impassive face for some long moments, until they were swept into the castles shadow and he could see Potter no more, the latter was just another inky black head in the cloudy darkness.

~~ ~~~ ~~

The sorting ceremony was as long and as tiresome as ever. Having eaten very little on the train, Draco by this stage, was ravenous, and his stomach growled in a rather undignified manner as he watched with faux interest as the first years tripped onto the stage and underneath the Sorting Hat's all-knowing stance.

Some looked pale and weak-kneed; some were calm and indifferent; some just looked plain out confused by the whole thing. _Mudbloods_, his Inner-Draco scowled, _they should go back to where they belong_! He was somewhat amused by the fact that some of the more confident first years, mostly purebloods who had been told beforehand what the ceremony involved, seemed shocked at the decisions that the Sorting Hat was giving. Draco, on the other hand, was faintly amused by the whole thing, well, he would have been if his stomach wasn't talking to him so loudly.

Bored, he began to shift his eyes around the Great Hall appraisingly, making sure his face was still and blank, tuning out the Slytherins with a certain grace that came with breeding and four years of practice. He scanned the teachers table first, scowling as Dumbledore clapped politely, his fingers slapping his palm lightly, his smile vague. Draco knew though, from experience, that the Headmaster saw and heard a lot more than he let on, and also knew that it was not a wise idea to cross him. _Or his precious pet Potter_, he scowled firmly before letting his eyes drift a little more.

McGonagall was there, looking as stern as ever. Professor Sprout, dimpled and smiling sickeningly at Professor Flitwick, who was perched up on cushions, his feet dangling. Professor Snape, hunched a little, frowning deeply into his empty plate.

Draco made a quick deduction in his head and sought out their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, glowering when he found the culprit. _Yes, definitely a Weasel_. 

Even if Draco hadn't been present to overhear Granger and Potter on Platform 9¾ he would have been able to tell that their new teacher was a Weasley. The youth couldn't have been more than twenty-five, with long shocking-red hair, thin and tall, a fang dangling from his ear. Draco faintly recognised him from nearly three months back, on the night of the Third Task, his face a pale mask as he rested his hand on Ron's shoulder as Granger had wept uncontrollably after Harry had gone missing.

He shivered with the memory. His father had never spoken about that night when Draco had returned to Malfoy Manor, locking himself in his study for days on end, making hurried calls with his private fireplace and receiving owls at all times of the day and night. Draco had kept one ear to the ground all summer; intercepting owls; bribing the staff; harassing house-elves by pulling their ears until they talked; snooping though his fathers desk, gathering information everywhere. He even drove himself to seek out his mother's haunts and sitting at her feet pretending to read, his sharp ears taking in every slip of the tongue.

Lucius Malfoy had plans, that much was obvious, and Draco knew full well what was expected of him when he turned seventeen. Draco, on the other hand, had no intention of turning to Voldemort, but saw no sense in turning over to the 'Side of the Light' either. There was no way he was going to be one of Dumbledore's watchdogs and pawns. Draco wanted out of England completely, planning to leave for America at the first chance he got, leaving himself free to do what he wanted to do.

What that was exactly was still a mystery.

He shook his head inwardly, eyes running a cataloguing and appraising eye over all the students within his sightline. Who was sitting next to whom? Where did the alliances stand? What groups would hold certain power and privileges this year? Study groups, rivalries, love interest…this kind of information was highly priced to Draco. He liked to remain on top of things, in and out of Slytherin; he knew fact from fiction, truth from lies, instance from gossip, reality from speculation. He was a mastermind when it came to this kind of cunning, playing one person off another, using weaknesses to his advantage. He knew how to gain information without seeming obvious, many of the portraits in the school knew him on sight, and were more than willing to stop and have a chat for a moment or two with the charming blonde Slytherin. In short, he could make a very affective weapon against any side, if he ever decided to lay his loyalties down.

But for Draco, that was not an option.

Finally the Sorting was over and McGonagall removed the hat for another year. The food was quick to appear and everyone fell to it quickly, finding their appetites after such a long wait. Draco piled food on his plate and chewed thoughtfully, choosing to ignore Crabbe and Goyle in their attempts to see just who could fit more in their mouths; a disgusting exercise that seemed to happen every meal. Pansy, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to sit and gossip with Blaise Zabini, talking a mile-a-minute about something unimportant.

Draco found himself staring down at the Gryffindor table, which he always faced, preferring to keep the Gryffindorks in sight at all times, evaluating their petty lives carefully. The Tosser Trio were just to the left of his sight focus on Ginny Weasley, who was gazing with rapt attention at the Boy Wonder himself.

Draco felt sick to the stomach.

Granger was sitting next to her, ignoring the youngest Weasel completely as she spoke hurriedly to Potter. It looked as though she was trying to reason with him about something, with Weasel on the other side of him torn between arguing with Granger at Potter's behalf (or vice-versa) and shovelling food in his mouth. Potter on the other hand, seemed to be ignoring both of them, leaving them to snipe between themselves, munching half-heartedly on a chicken thigh.

The black haired boy looked up suddenly, his eyes resting for just a moment on Draco's face, seeing his stare and matching it perfectly with one of his own. They held the look for the briefest of moments before Draco forced a scowl on his face and turned to Goyle, an inexplicable anger rising in his veins.

"Will you two stop acting like pigs and more like human beings?!" he snarled at them, putting a definite halt on their eat-a-thon.

Somehow relieved by their muttered apologise, and feeling, once again, like the Prince of Slytherin, Draco returned to his meal, not looking at the Gryffindor table again, even when the slightly metallic sounding laugh of Harry Potter resounded in his ears from the other side of the hall.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Draco stared at his ceiling and gave up on sleep for the fourth time that night, slipping out of bed silently and padding softly, wrapped in his black bathrobe, down to the common room, it's fire smouldering, spreading forth a great deal of heat, even at two in the morning.

He folded himself gracefully into one of the padded sofas nearest the fire and stared into the depths as he considered the information that had already been presented to him since his return to Hogwarts.

The Hufflepuffs seemed more bonded together than ever, creating an unbalance in the school. It seemed, that these days, they trusted no one but each other, all in firm belief that what happened to Cedric would never happen again to one of their own. They were determined, brittle…_fools_, spat Inner-Draco to him, _they think they are strong as a united force, but it makes them weaker_. The usually trusting Hufflepuffs were full of suspicion and glares, and not all of it was focused towards the Slytherin table either. Draco had switched seats with Carla Fracell, a haughty sixth-year, and spent several minutes talking to the Bloody Baron.

The Baron was much like Draco in a way, always in the hunt for information, and was one of Draco's main contacts, considering that the ghosts could travel anywhere in the school - no bars could hold them in, nor walls to halt their progress. And since they weren't solid, people naturally assumed that they didn't hear _anything_, so they were perfect allies if you knew what to ask. The Baron made an excellent spy, and Draco used him at ever opportunity.

The Baron had informed him that the Hufflepuffs were restless at their ranking as bottom of the school, especially after their champion last year had been outshone by an underage Potter; who had always maintained that he did _not_ put his name in the Goblet of Fire, _nor did he know who did_. And then Cedric had died at the hand of He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Named (except by Potter who didn't know any better) which had caused much unrest and speculation. There were many dark looks towards the Gryffindors, and especially towards Potter, because he still refused to die. Everything came down to Potter, it would seem.

The Ravenclaws also seemed more bonded, although their animosity towards Potty and the Gryffindorks was not so hostile. Cho Chang had spent most of the meal refusing to meet anyone's eyes, and had left the hall as soon as she could, swamped with her friends and close supporters. Draco had watched Potter follow her out with his eyes, regret on his face at his involvement of her pain. He was so obvious, with his feelings towards Cho, crush or otherwise; and Draco rolled his eyes at the fact that Potter, Boy Wonder, had simply fallen for a pretty face.

The Baron had also mentioned that the Portraits had been gossiping more than usual as the holidays had drawn to a close, but he was not sure why exactly. Something to do with the Prefects or some such nonsense. The Baron paid little heed to the Portraits, preferring to turn himself invisible and glide noiselessly around the school, eavesdropping. There was no fun in _talking_ to people…it was much more interesting doing the dirty work yourself, especially if you happened to be floating around for a couple hundred of years, and more often than not, bored out of your nonexistent skull.

Draco had been made a Prefect, much to his mother's delight, and obviously at Snape's insistence. _Let's face facts here_, his Inner-Draco preened, _it was either me or Crabbe or Goyle, knuckleheads anonymous_. As a Prefect he had certain…_privileges_ that he was open now to exercise, well, as least exercise with the back-up of teachers, something that he had never bothered about in the past. He had received his letter, along with the password to the common-room, a week before leaving the Manor, so with this knowledge well in hand, he gave over the reins to Zabini to show the first years to their rooms and went to talk to his more favourite Portraits.

He found himself on the second floor, underneath one of the moving staircase (with a disappearing step a third of the way up) in heated conversation with Violet, who was, incidentally, a friend of the Fat Lady who guarded the Gryffindor tower. She was a gossip queen that could rival Pansy, rarely found in her own frame because she was too busy sticking her painted nose into other paintings' business. The only frame she refused to be in was Sir Codigan's, the mad knight near the Divination tower, and Draco did not blame her in the slightest, having encountered the knights antics one too many times himself.

"Potter was made a Prefect?" he asked, astounded at the knowledge and trying to figure out how he had missed him wearing the badge, reprimanding his keen eye and cunning.

"Oh yes! And he turned it down flat too!" Violet was in full flight by this stage, her fan fluttering as her hand twitched with excitement.

"He turned it down?" echoed Draco, slack jawed.

"Told Dumbledore himself that he didn't want the responsibility. That he wasn't the right person for the job. Dumbledore was most disappointed in him I can tell you. I heard it from one of his personal Portraits half-an-hour ago!"

"So who are the Gryffindor Prefects?"

"That lovely, polite Miss Granger," - Draco snorted, remembering her swearing act on the platform - "And Mister Thomas."

"Mudbloods…both of them. Thanks Vi." growled Draco automatically, his mind still on Potter's refusal to take a role of Prefect. _I would have thought that he would have jumped at the chance to add another notch to his already full belt…I bet that's what Granger was trying to talk to him about at Dinner_. Draco continued this line of thought as he strode forcefully towards the common room, letting his autopilot take over and lead him back.

So he was startled when he noticed a too-thin figure step out from a side door some metres in front of him. Draco came to a halt and slid behind one of the suits of armour, fading quietly into the shadows. The figure moved in a disjointed fashion, as if unused to their legs and Draco growled inwardly to himself. _Potter, sneaking out after curfew again_.

Draco watched him carefully for a few minutes as he stared blankly into the night through one of the windows; watched him sigh deeply, brushing his too-long hair out of his eyes with frail hands; watched him turn and return back the way he came unsteadily, heading in the direction of the tower and his bed. 

Watched the memory of him by the window as if it were the answer to everything.

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

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Amy's Notes:

Well, firstly I'd like to thank my co-author (and partner in crime) Natasha: for agreeing to do this collaboration (yes, guys, if you want to blame anyone for this, blame me!) and for putting up with me. Secondly: my ever-so-wonderful beta Meri:- you're one of my stars.

Thanks go out to all our lovely reviews:- wow, it's amazing the response we've had so far. In the first day we had so much feedback and it was great. Please, please, please keep reviewing…both Natasha and I would love to hear from you.

Shadows!Draco is turning into quite an enigma for me - he keeps growing and forming and I never quite know what he's going to do or think next. But if you don't really like Shadows!Draco…tough, because _I do_ (and I have quite a lot of say in the matter). But next Draco chapter we might see a bit if Sarcastic!Draco, Slightly-Evil!Draco and Downright-Mean-And-Nasty!Draco - I'm having quite a lot of fun attacking the keyboard and mentally bashing Shadows!Harry around quite a lot…poor, poor Shadows!Harry…(Shadows!Draco laughs rather evilly)

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Next Chapter:

Features Oliver's not-so-wonderful replacement; Ron tries out for the Quidditch team; Hermione does something rather unexpected (and hugely out-of-canon - but I'm blaming Natasha - even though I did make _Hermione swear first_…!); a mob scene; and _Hogwarts, A History_. This should be _enthralling._ (Author rubs hands together gleefully with mock anticipation before laughing at self - Author is silly cow)

Please R&R


	4. Harry: Chaos Lends A Helping Hand

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The Spaces Between Shadow & Night

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

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Chapter 3  
_When Chaos Lends A Helping Hand_

Bill led Harry, Hermione and Dean up to Professor Dumbledore's office. The password this time was 'Fizzing Whizbee'. Dumbledore certainly had an obsession with sweets of all kinds.

He looked different than he had done at the feast. Weaker, and older, like he had done after the Tri Wizard Tournament. Dumbledore looked almost frail, but his eyes lit up when the three Gryffindors and his newest member of staff entered the room.

"Thank you, William. You may go." Bill nodded and left quickly. Dumbledore then turned his attention to the three students. He cast a glance over the three of them, and Harry could have sworn that he looked almost disappointed. "I understand that you do not wish to remain a Prefect, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I don't believe I would be able to fulfil the duties properly."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Very well. In that case, Mr Thomas, I would like to offer the position of Gryffindor Prefect to _you_."

Dean looked surprised. Obviously Dumbledore hadn't written to Dean suggesting this. "Thank you, Professor," he managed to choke out after a moment.

Harry pulled his Prefect's badge out of his pocket, holding it out to Dean. "You'll need this." Dean picked the silver badge from Harry's hands which, on close inspection, were covered in tiny paper cuts.

"I suggest that the three of you return to your Common Room," Dumbledore said as Dean quickly pinned the badge onto his robes. "You shouldn't wander the corridors at night."

The three of them walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room at quite a fast speed. If Harry hadn't known any better he'd say that Hermione was trying to rush him.

It all became clear when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that something was going on. The Fat Lady granted access to the Common Room only when given the right password, though occasionally she would go for a walk (or to gossip with her talkative friend Violet, another portrait) thus leaving unfortunate Gryffindors stranded outside unless someone decided to exit the Common Room or she returned.

She giggled slightly, before asking the password. "Wimbledon," Hermione told her. Harry gave Hermione a confused look. She shrugged. "Apparently McGonagall has a thing for tennis." Harry raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pursue the subject further. "After you," said Hermione waving a hand towards the portrait hole.

Slightly confused, Harry clambered through the hole, Hermione and Dean (who had a rather dazed grin on his face) right behind him.

Harry was greeted by a deafening roar from his house mates and he heard a group of them begin to sing 'Happy Birthday'. Harry turned to Hermione and Ron (who had emerged from the crowd, a grin on his freckled face), a confused looking playing across his face. "What's going on? It's not my birthday."

"We thought you deserved a birthday party," Ron explained, handing Harry a bottle of Butterbeer.

"I don't want a party," said Harry quickly. Luckily for him the rest of the Gryffindors weren't paying much attention to him now: they had begun chatting between themselves and several (including Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson) were dancing to music that was coming from a Wizard Wireless.

"But we want to give you one, Harry," Hermione told him earnestly. "Just enjoy it. Plus, you get presents."

She grinned, pointing at a table that had been stacked with a multitude of presents. When Harry had opened them all, he had gifts ranging from a pocket Foe Glass (he was planning on putting this beside his bed) to an actual Golden Snitch - a present from the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry had a feeling that it was mainly from Fred and George though - he had given his winnings from the Tri Wizard Tournament to them: one thousand Galleons.

At one point Harry had even snuck out of the party - he had needed the peace and quiet that the corridors held at night. Everything seemed so much calmer at night when the students were in their Common Rooms.

For someone who had spent the summer in virtual solitary confinement, peace and quiet was something that Harry relished. The view out of the windows seemed different at night: Harry had spent a good five minutes just staring out at the lake from the second floor.

It was nearly midnight when Harry stumbled into bed (Ron had forced quite a few Butterbeers at Harry who didn't have the energy to decline them).

He couldn't sleep, though. It was almost as if he was too tired to sleep, but at the same time he felt as wide awake as ever.

__

Counting sheep really doesn't work, Harry thought, blinking. No matter how much he wanted to, or tried, he simply couldn't fall asleep.

Just as he was finally managing to drop off, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

Harry shot out of bed like lightning, his wand clutched in his hand and glasses on before he could even comprehend the situation.

George Weasley stared at him, his eyes wide. "Blimey, Harry. It's obvious why you're Seeker, isn't it?"

"What's going on? What time is it? Why are you in my dormitory?"

"Whoa - once question at a time! Quidditch practice. Five o'clock. Angelina sent me."

"Why did Angelina send you?"

"She's the new Captain. Get dressed - she wants you down on the Quidditch Pitch in five minutes." George disappeared before Harry could say anything else. Groaning, he fumbled around in the darkness trying to find his training robes. He left the room quietly, and started down the stairs before realising he had forgotten something important - his Firebolt. Broomsticks were pretty much essential for Quidditch.

After collecting his broom, Harry raced down to the Quidditch Pitch where the rest of the team were warming up. "Who's the new girl?" Harry asked Fred, nodding in the direction of an auburn-haired witch, who Harry recognised as a seventh year. She looked to be half asleep, and kept shooting evil looks in Angelina's direction when the new Captain wasn't looking.

"Matilda Thistlebury. She's the reserve Keeper. Angelina asked her to come to practice until we get a new Keeper," Fred told him quietly.

"So why isn't she the new Keeper?"

"That's her business," Fred told him sharply. His tone of voice told Harry that he should drop the subject immediately. 

"Okay, people, gather round!" Angelina ordered. With a collective groan, the rest of them crowded round her. Alicia and Katie seemed to be leaning on each other for support. Katie appeared to be falling asleep standing up. "This year we _are going to win_," she said fiercely. "Nothing is going to stop us, not even some has-been Dark Lord." Harry grinned. He _knew _there was a reason why he liked this girl. "If you thought Oliver Wood was a slave driver, you haven't seen anything yet."

Surveying her team, Angelina gave a few more orders, then said, "Matilda is filling in for us until we get Wood's replacement so remember to treat her like a member of the team. Matilda, we're going to have a mini-game - you up for it?"

Matilda glared at her, obviously not happy at being awake before six o'clock in the morning. She wasn't a morning person, anyone could tell that. She gave Angelina a mock Nazi salute. "Ja mein Fuhrer."

Angelina ignored her and turned to Harry. "Do you think it's light enough for you to find the Snitch?"

"I'm up for a challenge."

"Good."

As tired as Harry was, there was something so incredibly_ exhilarating_ about flying at half past five in the morning. He had gone from one extreme to another: being trapped in a small space with little movement for virtually all of eight weeks then being in the air again, where he had all the freedom he wanted.

At that particular moment in time nothing felt as good as riding the fastest broom in the world at the fastest speed in the world. Harry heard a couple of shrieks from the girls as he sped past them - they had clearly forgotten, in the absence of last years Quidditch, just how fast he could go. He managed to catch the Snitch in about thirty seconds. 

Releasing the small winged ball, Harry paused to watch the rest of the team. It was as if they had never been away. Matilda seemed to blend seamlessly in with the team, and Harry was amazed that she wasn't going to be on the team permanently.

When Angelina finally called practice to an end, at nearly eight o'clock, Harry decided to corner Matilda. She didn't seem quite so grouchy now she had woken up a bit.

Jogging to keep up with her (she walking surprisingly fast), Harry managed to asked, "So why aren't you Oliver's replacement? You're just as good as him. Better, even."

She stopped walking abruptly. "Because I can't. I get ill. Sometimes I even black out. I did that once and nearly broke my neck. Anyway, I might not even be around by the end of the season."

"Why not?" Harry pressed. _She has talent and she's letting it go to waste?_ Harry was surprised. Someone who could play Quidditch as well as her should have been playing professionally when she left school.

"Harry, unless you want to be mauled by my broomstick," she held up her Cleansweep 7 threateningly, "I suggest you drop the subject." So he did.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for Harry in the Great Hall. Harry took a seat, and Hermione passed him a plate of food that he accepted hungrily. Digging in, he could hear Ron going on about how he was going to try out for Keeper.

Seeing Hermione's bored expression (though she was hiding it well, Harry had to admit), Harry tried to change the subject. "Have our timetables come yet?"

Hermione smiled gratefully at him. "Yes. Here's yours." She passed Harry his then paused. Harry could tell there was something she wasn't telling him.

"What is it?"

She bit her lip. "Well, Dumbledore wants to build inter-house relations, so they've kind of mixed up our classes."

"Mixed up?"

"Let me put it this way; we won't be having Potions with just Slytherins. It'll be Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's as well."

"Yeah, I'm in hardly any of the same classes as you or Hermione," Ron grumbled through a mouthful of toast. He swallowed then passed his timetable. Comparing the two, Harry saw that they had very few lessons together. Ron reached over and pulled his timetable out of Harry's hands. He shoved it roughly into his bag and stood up. "I'd better go. I've got History of Magic in..." he looked at his watch, "five minutes ago."

"What's your first lesson?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Herbology. You?"

That was a relief. "Same. We'd better get going." Hermione nodded.

Professor Sprout was waiting for the class outside of Greenhouse One. As Hermione had said, their class was a mixture of the four houses. Harry spotted some people he knew, such as Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff Harry had worked with before and Padma Patil, who had been Ron's date to the Yule Ball. Draco Malfoy was also there.

"I hope he's not in too many of my classes," Harry muttered to Hermione. Seeing who Harry was talking about, she frowned.

"Don't let him get you, Harry."

"He's always staring at me!"

"Maybe it's because he thinks you're so incredibly handsome?" Hermione teased.

"Please don't say that, Hermione! You'll give me more nightmares than I've already got!"

"You have nightmares?" Hermione sounding genuinely concerned. "Harry? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," Harry hissed, as Professor Sprout began to address the class, not really listening to what she was saying. Hermione eyed him suspiciously, before turning her attention to the professor.

~~ ~~~ ~~

"Ron! Wait!" Harry calls fell on deaf ears as Ron stormed through the Common Room, ignoring everyone in his path. Ron had slammed the Fat Lady's portrait shut after him (much to her chagrin), so when Harry scrambled through a few seconds later, Ron was nowhere to be seen.

"He went up to the dormitory." Harry turned to see Hermione stood by his shoulder.

"How upset did he look?" asked Harry, not quite sure he wanted to know.

"Absolutely fuming. He didn't make the team, did he?" 

Harry shook his head. Ron had, as he had said, tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. As good as he had been, and with Fred and George's influences on the Captain, Madam Hooch had decreed that Seamus Finnigan, a sandy-haired fifth-year, and best friend of Dean Thomas, had got the coveted Keeper's spot.

__

I hope he doesn't take this too badly, Harry thought. 

"You should let him cool down a bit," Hermione advised. "Clear his head a bit."

"Do you want a game of chess?" Harry asked. Hermione bit her lip.

"I'm actually already in the middle of a game," she admitted. Looking over her shoulder, Harry saw George and Fred Weasley staring intently at a chess board.

"You're playing both of them?"

"They need all the help they can get." Hermione was nowhere as near as good as Ron when it came to chess, but judging by the number of black pieces left on the board (Hermione was clearly playing white) Fred and George were completely useless.

After about half an hour (Harry decided to help the twins beat Hermione), Ron emerged from the boys staircase, a copy of _Hogwarts, a History _tucked under his arm and his battered school bag over his shoulder.

He settled himself down at a nearby table, seemingly refusing to meet anybody's eyes. Scowling to himself, he started leafing through the book. A few minutes later he gave an exasperated sigh and slammed the book shut.

"Problem?" asked George.

"Binns is making us read a chapter of this stupid book and write an essay about it. I can't work out which is the shortest chapter, though," Ron explained, still not looking at Harry.

__

Why do I feel so guilty? Harry wondered. _It's not my fault he didn't make the team._

"Chapter Twelve," Harry and Hermione answered in unison. Ron and Hermione stared at Harry; Ron in disbelief and Hermione with a sort of pride.

"I'm impressed," Hermione told him. "How did you know that?"

"Yeah. I didn't think you'd even read _Hogwarts, a History_," Ron said.

Harry shrugged. "I spent a lot of time studying. There wasn't a lot more I could do." He held out his hands, which apart from looking like they were covered in tracing paper, were covered in a multitude of tiny paper cuts. "As testified by the number of cuts I got."

Hermione grinned. "You'll build up an immunity," she said, taking a closer look at his hands. "Don't worry about it." She turned back to the chess game, and moved her Bishop. There was a commotion on the board as the Bishop took Fred and George's Queen. Hermione smiled smugly at them.

"You two could have easily prevented that," commented Ron.

"We're not geniuses like you!" protested Fred.

Ron looked slightly flustered. "I'm not a genius," he protested.

"'Course you are," said Hermione earnestly. "It takes a very logical mind to play chess as well as you do - look at me: I'm a load of rubbish!"

"Your face is clashing with your hair," warned George. Sure enough, Ron's face was turning very red at the compliment. It wasn't everyday that Hermione complimented someone on their intelligence. Ron scowled at his brother, and started flicking through _Hogwarts, a History_, evidently trying to find Chapter Twelve.

Ron, relieved at seeing the length of the chapter (five pages, and half of them were full of pictures), managed to finish his required three feet of parchment in no time.

Hermione managed to win the chess game in another three moves, even with Harry helping the twins.

__

This is how things should be, Harry decided, viewing them all together. Ron seemed to have forgotten about not making the team for the time being and Hermione was even joking around with the twins. _She's certainly changed a lot. Then again, I think we all have._

Looking back on the last four years, all three of them had changed. Some people, on the other hand, hadn't.

Potions was one lesson that the three of them had together, the other being Care of Magical Creatures.

Professor Snape was as vindictive as ever, and his hatred of Harry certainly hadn't lessened over the summer. The only thing about the Head of Slytherin that seemed to have altered was the fact that he seemed at nasty to the Slytherin students as he was to students of other houses.

He certainly did not seem at all happy about the rearranging of his classes. He was even less happy to see Harry, Ron and Hermione together in his class (they were the only Gryffindors) and his first course of action was to split them up.

__

Of all the people in this bloody dungeon, I had to end up sat next to him_ didn't I? _Harry ended up next to Malfoy. Malfoy managed to ignore Harry for the rest of the lesson after Harry failed to react to his jibes.

Hermione was sat next to a girl from Slytherin with black hair called Alena Rhyson, whom Harry knew by sight, and that was about it. They seemed to be getting on well enough, both wary to begin with, and Ron was sat next to a boy from Ravenclaw called Henry, whom Harry didn't recognise at all.

After Snape's lesson (which involved making so many notes that Harry could hardly keep up), Harry somehow managed to get separated from Hermione and Ron.

As he was making his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he was swamped by a group of excitable girls, all begging for his autograph. This wasn't the first time it had happened either; it happened the day before when Harry was walking from Herbology with Hermione to Divination.

Hermione had stood back, and as Harry had tried to deal with them all, she had burst out laughing, finding the situation absolutely hilarious.

She seemed to know what had happened when Harry clambered through the portrait, and it was obvious she was trying not to crack up. Ron, too, was sniggering, meaning that Hermione must have told him.

"Your fans attack you again, Harry?" she asked. Harry nodded miserably, sinking into a seat beside her.

"I really wish people wouldn't do that," he told her. _And I wish she wouldn't find it so funny._

"Harry, just be glad you're not famous in the Muggle world - imagine all the merchandising!" she warned.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, your name would be everywhere - books, posters, stationary, kitchen roll..."

"D'you want me to curse you?" Harry asked, sounding exasperated. "You know how much I hate all this attention."

~~ ~~~ ~~

__

Its a wonder those two haven't been at each others throats yet, thought Harry. It was almost two weeks into the term, and to Harry's, and most of the other Gryffindors, surprise, Hermione and Ron were yet to have a fight.

"Sit vis nobiscum," he told the Fat Lady. That was the current password. According to Hermione, it was the Latin for 'may the Force be with you'. It had taken a long time for Hermione to explain what this meant to Ron, and Harry had been sure that a row would emerge from it.

Amazingly, one didn't.

Harry groaned at the sight before him as the Fat Lady swung open. _Famous last words_.

"You have got completely the wrong end of the stick!" Hermione looked livid, and Ron wasn't much better.

"Well, how do explain yourself then! You're with him all the time! How am I not supposed to think that?"

"Hello? I'm one of his best friends and we're in a lot of the same classes? And while we're on the subject, you don't seem to even care about him? You hardly ever talk to him any more."

Ron looked simply furious at this accusation. "Of course I talk to him!"

"No, Ron. I mean _really_ talk to him. Do you even know what he did this summer? What happened to him? Did you know that he has hardly slept for the last few weeks?"

The redhead's face fell. "I, uh, I..." 

Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at Ron. "I thought not."

__

I think I'd better say something before they kill each other. "Will you two stop yelling?" Harry demanded in the space between his best friends raised voices. They fell quiet, staring at Harry in disbelief. Never before had he intervened and stopped one of their arguments.

Hermione bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said quietly. Ron, however, reacted slightly differently to Harry's interruption.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "Don't you trust me?"

"Ron, I..."

"No, Harry, I don't want to hear it." Ron turned and fled up to the boy's dormitories.

Hermione licked her lips nervously. "Are you all right?"

"As well as can be expected. What was the fight about?"

She shrugged. "He accused me of shutting him out. Says we've been spending too much time together. That's a load of bull if you ask me..."

"I'm not," said Harry shortly.

Hermione merely blinked. "Okay." She took a step forward, so that she was standing directing in front of Harry. She drew herself up to her full height (about half a head shorter than Harry), trying to look authoritative. "You're coming with me to the Hospital Wing."

"What? Why?"

"Because this lack of sleep is making you ill. I've already spoken to Madam Pomfrey. She says she'll give you a dreamless sleep potion if you really need it."

Harry sighed. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes round. "Please?" she begged.

"Okay," agreed Harry. _Maybe this won't be took bad._

The brunette grinned, and grabbed Harry by the arm, practically pulling him out of the Common Room. They were just passing near the Prefect's bathroom when Hermione stopped.

"Oh, shit. Harry, I left my Charms book in the classroom earlier. Can you wait here while I get it?"

Harry nodded. "Go ahead. I'll be fine by myself." Hermione gave Harry a grateful smile, then rushed back in the direction that they had just come in. _She's faster than I thought,_ Harry realised.

Looking out of the nearest window, Harry saw that it was a full moon. He couldn't help but think of Remus Lupin and what he must have been going through. _Then again, he does have Sirius with him_.

"What are you doing out here by yourself, Potter? Where's your little sheep dog?" Harry could recognise that amused drawl anywhere.

__

He's a very pathetic person if he finds his own jokes funny. "Give it up, Malfoy. It's not going to work."

"Is the magnificent Harry Potter to afraid to fight back?" asked Malfoy, taking a step closer. He punched Harry lightly on the shoulder. Harry staggered back slightly and Harry noticed that Malfoy was surprised at his own strength, or at least, how weak Harry was.

"No, I'm just too mature to bother fighting with a bully like you." Harry's tone was firm and the sort of voice that heeded no nonsense.

Harry noticed Hermione reappear. She stood behind Malfoy, who had not noticed her, and listened to them.

"Tut tut, Potter. Don't resort to name calling. That's _so_ immature."

Hermione frowned, then tapped Malfoy sharply on the shoulder. Malfoy turned, surprised, and she greeted him with by a solid punch to his jaw. He fell, his head hitting the hard stone floor.

Smiling, Hermione moved over to Harry, careful to step on Malfoy as she did so.

"You just punched Malfoy." Harry was at a loss for words. _I can't believe she did that. _Harry glanced at Malfoy's unconscious figure. _But why do _I _feel guilty? Something about this just isn't right._

"And I feel so much better for it," Hermione remarked, linking her arm through Harry's. "Come on Harry, the Hospital Wing awaits us."

Feeling strangely numb, Harry allowed Hermione to lead the way, leaving Draco Malfoy sprawled out in the middle of the corridor, his ash-blonde hair catching the moonlight, not stirring a millimetre.

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

****

Amy's Notes:

I can't believe that she knocked me out! Well, knocked Shadows!Draco out anyway. I told you all that Hermione was going to do something unexpected thought, didn't I? Oh, who cares anyway - apart from me…she just left poor Shadows!Draco lying there! (Shadows!Harry sniggers quietly behind Shadows!Draco back).

As I seem to have been made the official "Note Writer" - I better bloody well get on with it, hadn't I? Huge, huge, huge thanks to all our reviewers so far:- **Val** - yes, I do moo on the occasion, usually when I've had too much to drink - **Anne Phoenix **- we didn't make you late for work, did we? - 

Avalon Princess, JadeDragon, chrisseee667, beautiful disaster, bwaybaby79

Thank you to Natasha, who got this chapter to me while I was dying somewhere between angst (my job is chaotic), fluffy stuff (with my new Harry/Draco buddy, Angie) and writing madness (my housemate hates me…as well as my stints on the computer at 3am). For someone who claims to have had writers' block, she did a remarkable job.

Next Harry chapter you might not have to put up with me doing the notes: I've decided it's definitely Tasha's turn.

****

Next Chapter:

Features a self-pitying Draco (a very rare species indeed). A stupid pyjama top that won't go on (and may play a huge part later on). Sparing from both sides of the (ehrm, dare I say it?) fence. A revelation of sorts, and lots and lots of dialogue (which I suck at by the way, in case any of you are interested…thought not). Also included: insults, quick thinking, and lots of dialogue (did I mention…wait, yes I did. Never mind).

Please R&R


	5. Draco: With Reality Comes Pain

****

The Spaces Between Shadow & Night

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

****

Chapter 4  
_With Reality Comes Pain_

Draco, on the third attempt, managed to open one eye and immediately wished he hadn't. The harsh light hit the back of his skull in force and he groaned as the hundred little men wearing steal boots began their line-dancing lessons on his brain.

__

What a perfect way to end an altogether miserable fortnight. His Inner-Draco whimpered pathetically, rolled over and pulled the covers over his head, trying to make the world disappear with sheer force of will alone.

The last two weeks had been nothing short of gruelling for Draco.

Dumbledore, _crazy old coot_, had seen it fit and well within his power as Headmaster to split the four houses up and mix the students together. _He probably drew their names out of his pointed hat himself_, sneered Inner-Draco; the little voice getting more cocky and confident with every passing day that Draco was away from his father and the Manors influences and guests.

Draco, for the most part, was without his support group of Crabbe and Goyle; and on a definite up-side had lost the annoying presence of his 'second shadow', Pansy. He was mostly in the company of Blaise Zabini and Alena Rhyson for the best part; Blaise, although a gossip, knew when to keep her mouth shut; and Alena, who was a quietly cunning black-haired Slytherin girl whom was much passed over. She was highly underrated by everyone, both in and out of the green and silver decorated common room. She was in fact an extremely intelligent girl, much to Draco's delight, charming and witty company, who could rival Draco in his need-to-know basis. Her motto was: _Be Good, And If You Can't Be Good, Don't Be Stupid Enough To Get Caught_.

Draco agreed with this whole-heartedly.

One thing he found most amusing was that he, Potter and Granger had somehow landed in nearly every class together, apart from one, where it was just Granger and himself for Arithmancy. It seemed that the 'Tosser Trio' was splitting apart at the seams, and he wondered just how long it would take for Weasley to crack under the pressure of being apart for such long periods of time from The Hero and The Brain.

By Day two the entire school was in a complete uproar about the Boy Wonder, news of his refusal for Prefecture was high on the list of 'to discuss' list. This was conducted with great enthusiasm by all; with the girls gossiping behind their mirrors in the hallways; with the boys having a running topical and heated discussion on the wall of the third level bathroom. Draco, on the other hand, was revelling in his role of Prefect: roaming the corridors at night, pretending not to see any Slytherin couples out-and-about; and giving Detentions to everyone else.

The only one he didn't bother was Potter.

He would often catch a glimpse of the too-slender-for-slender frame as it slid between the shadows and out the front door, striding around the dark recesses of the lake, climbing the winding stairs bound for the top of the West Tower to look out at the sky. Draco became obsessed with hunting out Potter and trying to guess where he would go tonight.

Draco preferred the night; it blended into his tastes perfectly, and in the first few weeks of the school year he would always have to break his nocturnal walks that he would adopt at the Manor over the summer, resting in the heat of the day. He suspected Snape was aware of his habits over the summer and would never stop the blonde haired Slytherin from moving around the castle in the cool of the night; and now that he was a prefect, the other teachers left him alone as well.

The night belonged to him…and Potter.

Potter…_hey, wait a minute…Potter!_

Draco scrambled his memories together slowly as he forced himself first into a sitting position, then onto his feet, holding on to one of the window sills for balance. _Potter…out after curfew…said something about…sheepdog…too mature…Granger…fist…_

Goddamn it! I let a **girl** flatten me!

Somewhere between being very pissed off at himself for stopping to talk to Potter in the first place and angry at Granger for having the _cheek_ to punch him, Draco forgot about his complaining head. So when a wave of self-pity hit him, he slammed his palm against his forehead and regretted it instantly, the world swimming and dancing out of focus around him.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Madam Pomfrey exclaimed in horror when Draco stumbled through the door nearly half an hour later.

"Mister Malfoy! What on earth happened to you?" The nurse fussed around him busily, guiding him sternly with steady hands to a bed and forcing him on to it, peering into his eyes worriedly.

"Something…hit me…didn't see who…woke up on floor…hurts pretty…badly."

"Probably that horrible Peeves. I have more cases in here because of that horrible poltergeist than I care to think about." Sniffed Madam Pomfrey. "Well, a lumps already come up and that's a good sign, it means there is no internal damage, but you'll have a nasty headache or two for the next couple of days. I'd like to keep you in until at least tomorrow night in case you have a concussion."

"Fine." groaned Draco.

Madam Pomfrey marched over to the other side of the room and returned holding some pyjamas, which she forced into his hands. "You get changes and straight into bed with you Mister Malfoy, I'll go get something to ease the pain of your headache and help you sleep tonight." With that, the efficient nurse clipped back to her office, the lights dimming with a wave of her wand.

Draco grunted a reply and began changing out of his robes sluggishly, each movement hard to coordinate through his unusually clumsy fingers. He had just pulled his pyjama pants up when a cool voice broke through the silence on the left side of him.

"You didn't see who hit you then, Malfoy? Well, if I were in your position I wouldn't admit to being flattened by a girl either."

Draco groaned as he fumbled with his shirt buttons as the curtain by his side being pushed back by translucent fingers. "Potter,"

"Potter," assented Harry, as he grinned mockingly. "How's the head, Malfoy?"

"Fuck. Off. I have a splintering headache thanks to your so-called friend and a lump on my head the size of the Golden Snitch. I am not…in…the…mood." Draco ground out his statement as his shirt was pushed off his slender shoulders, hands trailing after silk with well-practiced grace.

"Come now Malfoy, no need to be nasty. I was only being _polite_." sniffed Harry.

"Well don't. It doesn't suit you. What the fuck are you doing in here anyway? Break a nail?" Draco fumbled with the unfamiliar cotton top; it was one of those, half pull-on, half buttons contraptions, loose and baggy in all the wrong places; turning it this way and that and trying to decide what was the best way to approach it. Harry watched on with unguarded amusement at the sight of this unnaturally clumsy Malfoy.

"How the fuck are you meant to get these stupid things on?" grumbled Draco, more to himself than anything else, puzzlement pushing the pain in his head away for a second. He was so absorbed in his single-minded task of trying to dress himself, he barely heard the whisper of sheets being pulled back, nor did he barely hear the soft pad of naked feet drawing near. He did not miss the cool of Harry's shadow as it passed over him, or the cool of his fingers as they extracted the cotton softness away from Draco's fumbling digits. Draco gave in almost immediately, surrendering himself to the helplessness of having been knocked out. _By a Mudblood, no less_, squeaked Inner-Draco.

Harry shook out the material and undid the buttons at the top efficiently, before turning to Draco. "Arms up," he commanded.

Draco complied, his brain thick and fuzzy around the edges. Harry pulled the grey shirt over his head and pulled it down a trifle gently, doing the buttons up almost all the way to Draco's throat with a practiced air, only leaving the very top one undone. There was no evidence of the surprisingly weak Potter that had stumbled against Draco's light punch over an hour before. _Maybe it was just a figment of my imagination_, Inner-Draco shrugged and went back to sleep.

"There," Harry's tone was quiet as he turned and fled back to the warmth of his own bed, his footsteps quiet.

Draco looked down at himself bemused, raising a hand to look at as if he'd never seen it before in his life. He turned it over in front of his face, marvelling in the warmth of the skin and clean fingernails. "Thanks, Potter," He let the hand fall from his line of sight, pulling the sheets back from his bead. "I suppose that's your one good deed for the year."

Even when he was sick, Draco could still insult with the best of them.

"Like I'd waste my one good deed on you, Malfoy."

"Then what was it? Guilty conscious, Potter?"

Harry snorted. "What could I possibly have to be guilty about, Malfoy?"

"Knocking me out." Draco spat back, settling down on his bed and laying his complaining skill down on the pillow.

Harry laughed bitterly. "Wasn't me. It was Hermione."

"Stupid Mudblood." ground out Draco.

Harry turned to him, face set like marble. "Try calling her that to her face, Malfoy, and see what she turns you into," he smirked as he rolled onto his back again, before quietly adding. "Or do you fancy being a ferret again."

Draco glowered at the ceiling. "She wouldn't dare."

"Don't be too sure, Malfoy. Hermione's changed a lot over the summer. She's pretty powerful, especially when she wants to be." Harry's tone was serious.

"Granger couldn't have changed that much." scoffed Draco.

"She knocked you out, didn't she?" reasoned Harry, his face impassive as he stared at the cracked ceiling.

Draco remained silent for a moment before starting to fidget with his top, foregoing the previous conversation for safer topic. "God. How does anyone managed to _sleep_ in these things?"

"You get used to them."

"I'll bet you're really used to them, Potter. I mean, you're in here at least once a term without fail by my count."

Harry shrugged. "Can't help it if some rank out-of-date Over Lord wants me dead and tries to do away with me on a semi-regular basis. Although it is a worry when you find out that a pair of school infirmary pyjamas are set aside for your specific use, as well as a bed." Harry shuddered.

Draco sniggered at this revelation.

"Next they'll be naming a ward after you."

"God forbid," Harry's tone lightened with amusement, making his face glow for the briefest of times.

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to march back into the room. "Right, that's enough chattering you two. Draco, here's a Pain-Killing Potion for your headache. It will take care of the pain, but you'll feel a bit woozy and sluggish for a couple of days, but at least you won't be in pain. Harry, here's a simple eight-hour Dreamless Sleep Potion. Drink it _all_ and it should take effect in ten minutes or so. Sleep well you two and I'll see you both in the morning." 

With that, the nurse bustled back into her office, closing the door firmly behind her.

Draco sniffed suspiciously at his pain-killing potion, pulling a face in disgust. It smelled rancid, _and probably doesn't taste any better either I'll bet_. By the look on Harry's face, Draco judged that his potion wasn't too much better.

"Oh well," sighed Harry, resigned. "Bottoms up."

He swallowed his potion quickly, tipping it back like it was a shot, Draco quickly following suit, not wishing to be outdone, by a _Potter_ of all people.

They both blanched.

"Not as bad as Skel-Gro." Muttered Harry, settling back into his pillows, as Draco continued to pull faces.

They lay there for several minutes before Draco realised that Potter hadn't answered one of his earlier questions.

"What are you doing here anyway, Potter?"

Harry sighed deeply. "Hermione,"

"Granger taking you by the horns again, Potter? Trying to nag you into an early grave?"

"I'm sure Voldemort would just love that," scoffed Harry, refusing to elaborate on Draco's questions. "Death by Nagging…that would look great on a morgue report." He suddenly mused out loud. _Trying to change the subject_, Draco thought to himself.

"Well?" Draco persisted, wondering why he was bothering.

"You're not going to give up, are you Malfoy?"

"Not a chance, Potter. Malfoy's are not known for giving up."

"No, they're known for being Gigantic Gits who attend Evil Over-Lords whenever the fancy takes them." countered Harry tiredly.

"Come now Potter, there's no need to be immature and resort to name calling. I am simply concerned for your well being." Harry turned his face to him, eyebrows raided and Draco hastily added, "_Obviously_."

"Bullshit. You don't care about anything except your reflection."

Draco shrugged and he forced his tone to remain nonchalant. "Can't argue with logic like that. But I also happen to like the odd midnight walk for your information. Prefects privilege."

Harry shifted uneasily.

"And speaking of Prefects…" Draco grinned evilly.

"Drop it, Malfoy."

"Oh come _on_, Potter. The whole _school_ is _dying _to know why their _favourite_ Hero turned down Prefecture _Glory_."

"It's none of their business. And none of yours either." Harry's tone left no room for arguments.

"Suit yourself," shrugged Draco. "Although I can't help but wonder how many of them would love to know about your little strolls in the middle of the night? Very illicit midnight walks if you ask me."

Harry stiffened in his bed considerably. "How do you know about that?" he hissed at Draco.

"I've seen you around. I'm not completely adverse to the odd midnight walk myself. The nights can be so…relaxing." Draco preened, sweeping his blonde hair out of his line of sight on Harry. "Prefects get so much more _free range_. You'll regret not taking Dumbledore up on his offer one of these days, Potter."

"Not bloody likely," sniffed Harry. "If you had seen me around though, why didn't you stop me? After all, I'm sure you'd jump at the chance to take some more points off Gryffindor. You've taken more off than Snape has the last two weeks, and that's saying something."

Draco shrugged. "Why not? Watching you Gryffindor's squirm every time I sweep by is worth every single second."

"We do that because you're a Git-With-A-Capital-G, Malfoy, not because we're scared."

"Whatever," Draco tried one last time. "So, why did Granger make you come here to the infirmary, Potter? Break a nail? Stub one of your _precious_ toes?"

"Points for persistency, Malfoy." Silence lapped over them again.

"Answer the question, Potter." rumbled Draco, impatiently.

Harry sighed. "I haven't been sleeping well, that's all."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "That's it? You haven't _been sleeping well_? God, Granger must be getting paranoid in her old age."

"Probably," agreed Harry, sleepily, his eyes starting to shift closed. "She's a worry wart."

Draco's fine drifter back to Platform 9¾ where a flickering memory was jumping up and down impatiently, trying to get his attention. "Anything to do with cupboards, Potter? Can't sleep without one?"

Nothing but silence ensued.

"Potter? Are you falling asleep Potter?" queried Draco, as he watched Harry's eyes fall closed. 

All he got was a sleepy murmur in reply. "Night Malfoy."

"Night Potter," Draco replied quietly, and a few moments later, he was alone in the dark, the ceiling a dark expanse over his head, with his own muddled thoughts and the sound of Harry's breathing echoing loudly in his ears. 

Soon though, the darkness covered him and carried him away.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Draco checked his timetable, tuning out Pansy while Blaise had her 'I'm pretending to listen, but I'm really thinking about how much I'd love to gag you right now' expression on her face; her patience wearing, as it were, extremely thin. His Inner-Draco smirked, _Double Potions and Double DADA, this should be terrific _**fun**. He cast his eye over towards the Gryffindor table and watched as Weasley thumped his head against the table in despair, Dean Thomas patting his shoulder in mock-sympathy. Potter shook his head with amusement at something Granger had just said to him and resumed a heated discussion with Finnigan, the Gryffindors new Quidditch Keeper. 

__

Obviously Weasley hasn't done his homework for Double Potions this morning…Snape will not be impressed. Wonder how many points Gryffindor are going to loose today. Draco noted with some amusement that Potter was looking much better than he was, the rings under his eyes seemed to be disappearing and he was talking animatedly.

It was Draco's first day back in classes after had been discharged from his two-day stint in the Infirmary. He had woken up from sleep on that first morning to find Potter had already risen and gone to class, leaving Draco to question whether he had simply invented the whole conversation with the Gryffindor. But when Harry returned that evening with Draco's homework forced into his care by Snape and Binns, for another portion of Dreamless Sleep Potion and another sparing match besides, Draco was starting to feel like himself again. _This_, he remembered, _this_, fighting and snide comments was bliss, _this_ he could do standing on his head, pain or no pain…_me and Potter, at each others throats and egos_, he glowered comfortably, as they settled into their respective beds.

But now, it was back to classes, back to the Dungeons and Snape's foul temper. Friday morning was certainly not his best day, and he took it out on everyone.

Draco sauntered into the classroom some ten minutes later, his eyes cool as he slid into the seat next to Potter with indifference just as Snape swept into the room, the door slamming shut behind him. He glared around the classroom and smirked; which resulted in a very unpleasant sight for all involved. 

"Continue working on your potions. I want them all finished by lunch." Snape barked, his eyes falling on Draco who was looking helplessly at his notes. "You're back Mister Malfoy, how _pleasant_." Snape sneered at his favourite student's discomfort. "Mister Potter, fill Mister Malfoy on everything that he needs to know."

"Professor," assented Harry, quietly before turning to Draco. "Did you read the notes I brought up to you, Malfoy?"

"Yes, of course I did Potter, but notes are no match for practical work, especially in Potions. You know that."

Harry nodded. "I've already gotten over half-way through the practical things, and most of the ingredients are ready for the next part. There are two or three raw ingredients that have to remain in a safe state right up until we add them, so I'll get them ready as well go. If you want, we could run through what I've done so far just to give you an idea on what we've been doing while you weren't here." Harry's tone remained impassive and professional throughout. 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Okay, Potter, what's with you? Why are you being so irritatingly nice? I was enjoying the arguments."

Harry shot him a look of mock horror. "It's _Friday_, Malfoy. It's _Friday morning_, Malfoy. We're in _Double Potions_, Malfoy. With _Snape _in a_ fool mood_, Malfoy." 

Draco raised his eyebrow as if to say 'So?' 

"Have you really got that much of a death wish?" asked Harry, straight faced.

Draco chuckled slightly as they bent over Harry's notes, trying to keep out of Snape's wrath. Snape was in a foul mood, even by his standards, jibbing all the students, Slytherin or otherwise, at one time or another. Only Potter seemed immune, his brittle hands carefully measuring out ingredients with precision, all his answers to Snape's firing-line questions were clear and correct. He talked like a textbook in Draco's best subject, his face jaunt and impassive; and worse still, he failed to react to any of his jibes and comments, remaining silent throughout.

It was unnerving to say the very least.

Draco had gotten used to the casual taunts and underlying criticisms that they had become accustomed to in the past few days, while Draco was stuck in the hospital wing, head aching through the day and the sound of Harry's breathing at night. It was a pattern that Draco found to be extremely comforting, or at least, as comforting as life could be with a concussion and Madam Pomfrey fussing over you twenty-four-seven.

The two finished early, packing their books up silently and sitting side-by-side as Snape tried to find some fault with Potter's part of the assignment and getting angrier and angrier when he couldn't find any. 

"So…how's the head? Madam Pomfrey give you a clean bill of health?" asked Harry, casually.

Draco shrugged. "What do you care, Potter?"

"Just wondering, Malfoy, no harm with that."

"Now who's getting points for persistence?" Draco raised his eyebrows at the black-haired Gryffindor sitting next to him.

"Giving points to Gryffindor Malfoy? Moving up in the world?" cracked Harry.

"Nope, scraping the bottom of the barrel more like," he absently traced a carved line in the desk with a finger. "And my head is fine."

"Good to hear."

They spent the last few minutes in comfortable silence, their packed up books stowed safely in their bags, Harry drumming a little tune with his thumb against the desk, Draco scribbling some nonsense verses on the back of one of his scrolls.

"See you in Defense, Potter," muttered Draco under his breath as Snape dismissed the class, storming out of the classroom, cloak flying. Harry gave him a slight nod in reply, falling into step next to Hermione, Weasley scampering off in a pretence of conversation with his Potions partner. _Trouble in Paradise. I was wondering how long the Weasel was going to take to feel left out of the loop. After all, I have more classes with Potter and Granger than he does_. Harry looked dejectedly after the redhead and sighed slightly, his spine straight and tall next to Granger as they walked out together, talking in low voices.

Alena was at Draco's elbow, saving him from Pansy, and as the two walked comfortably to lunch, Draco realised that he hadn't asked Harry how he was sleeping, not bothering to wonder why he would have asked it, and cared about getting an answer, in the first place.

~~ ~~~ ~~

The night stretched to its full extent for as far as Draco could see. It swept away from him, masked walls, hid trees, climbed towers with long fingers; it barred him in. He prowled the corridors, hunting, scrounging, and clambering up his mind's eye with absolute faith in the system.

The letter lay unread and unattended on his bed back in the dorm.

He denied its existence, denied the sheer exhilarant feel of velvet and night-air clinging to his footsteps. He denied the almost non-existent crunch of his feet against the stone and dry leaves. He was elevated, knighted, and throned; gazing down with heart-wrenching wonder at his own command. This was better than flying…this feeling was better than anything.

He was shadow-veiled and stealthy, cat-like grace and adolescent glory. It swept around his shoulders like a cloak of absolute darkness and beauty, his Inner-Draco holding his tongue in fear of the wild ones creeping out to find him. He was a Prince here, with no one to compete against but his own faults, he was Lord; he would feast on the flesh of mortals; no bars would hold back his will.

Nothing.

No one.

"Never," his voice was husky, melting into the night.

"Never what, Malfoy?"

He was reassured.

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

****

Amy's Notes:

Yet another set of "Amy's Notes" to be written out and subsequently ignored by anyone who drops by to read this fic (apart from Val - who has been known to quote me on occasion).

Huge thanks to all our reviewers so far:- Val, Anne Phoenix, Avalon Princess, JadeDragon, chrisseee667, beautiful disaster, bwaybaby79

The general consensus so far is that Natasha and I are doing an okay job with this:- not murdering the characters too much in the process of…well, what ever it is we're doing. Shadows!Draco is still saying things that I never mean for him to be saying, and he's being quite rude so I might go buddy up to Shadows!Harry just to make him mad. Maybe not (he'll probably hex me).

Stay tuned for the next Draco chapter though: I'm going to be having some serious fun with some of the characters, including Hermione, Seamus and new-arrived OCC Alena. Fireworks may be in store for all concerned. And hopefully it won't take me as long to write as this chapter…after all…Hermione did knock Draco _unconscious_ for goodness sakes…!

****

Next Chapter:

I have got absolutely _no bloody idea_. Natasha still has to write it.

Please R&R


	6. Harry: Lines of Vision

**The Spaces Between Shadow & Night**

by: Silver Prophet   
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

**Chapter 5**   
Lines of Vision

"Never." Draco's voice was soft, so soft it almost blended into the quiet noises of the trees outside. 

"Never what, Malfoy?" asked Harry curiously. 

Malfoy appeared to be reassured by hearing Harry's voice, but didn't bother to answer his question. Harry climbed down from the windowsill where he had been sat, staring out at the lake. It was difficult to describe the utter sense of peace Harry felt when he looked out at the lake at night. 

"Good night, Malfoy." Malfoy gave a slight incline of his head to show Harry he heard him, and Harry left quickly. 

The two seemed to have come to some sort of unspoken agreement. If Malfoy saw Harry in the corridors at night he said nothing. He had never once reported Harry on the numerous times he had seen him, and they had even taken to exchanging civilised greetings. 

Careful to avoid Filch or Mrs Norris, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor Tower. It was times like this when he wished he could take a look inside people's heads. Malfoy was, as Hermione would probably say, _fascinating_. Then again, Hermione would probably have used several unsavoury words to describe Malfoy. Malfoy was so complicated, yet at the same time so absolutely simple and crystal clear. He never minced his words and everything was on a need-to-know basis with him. 

There was also a deeper side of him that Harry was sure he rarely showed. _But all in good time_, he decided, thinking of Hermione and the way she had blossomed gradually into the person she was today. 

_Maybe there's hope for him yet_, Harry thought. _On the other hand, this is Malfoy_. 

~~ ~~~ ~~

It was hard to describe exactly what a dreamless sleep was actually like. It wasn't like normal sleep, yet at the same time it was. You were asleep, but you weren't dreaming. It was more like being unconscious than anything else. There was no pain, no discomfort, no getting too hot and kicking the covers off.you just slept. 

Harry's visits to the Hospital Wing were becoming quite a regular occurrence now as Halloween drew nearer. There were numerous rumours flying around the school, such as that Harry was dying from an incurable disease. He and Hermione had had a good laugh about that one. 

Every few nights Harry and Hermione would go down to the Hospital Wing, and while they waited for Madam Pomfrey to see to Harry (he was bottom of her list of priorities as he wasn't actually ill per se) giving them a chance to talk without having to worry that Ron getting paranoid. He seemed to have got it into his head that Harry and Hermione didn't want to be friends with him anymore, and so had started spending time with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. 

Hermione finally cracked. About three days before she had finally yelled at Ron for being such an idiot (actually, she had used a different word than that), something Harry whole-heartedly agreed with. 

After that Ron had been warmer toward the two of them, even sitting with them in the few classes they had together. 

In Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid has acquired some Kneazles for his classes to study. They were fascinating creatures, very much like domestic cats, but magical. Harry was strongly reminded of Crookshanks, Hermione's boisterous pet cat. 

Crookshanks wasn't so much tame as not-completely-wild. He had, on occasion, been known to disappear for days on end then turn up again with a few dead mice. Hermione had been less-than-pleased when she had found several of these 'presents' on her pillow. 

"All right ev'ryone, t'day I want yeh to split into pairs teh study 'em." Up until then Hagrid had made them work in groups rather than pairs. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Ron sighed. 

"I guess I'll work with Seamus then," he said resignedly. Seamus was the only other Gryffindor in the class. He turned, but was stopped by Hermione, who grabbed his sleeve, holding him back. 

"You work with Harry," she told him earnestly. "_I'll_ work with Seamus." 

"Are you sure?" asked Harry. She nodded. 

"Yes." Hermione shrugged. "I've been working with him in Transfiguration and he hasn't blown me up yet, or even singed my eyebrows and that's always a good sign." She grinned, then left Harry and Ron alone. Over Ron's shoulder, Harry watched Hermione carefully. Seamus didn't seem too upset about having to work with her. 

Ron followed Harry's line of vision. He studied Hermione carefully. "She's certainly changed, hasn't she?" 

"We all have," remarked Harry, turning from Hermione and looking at the Kneazle in front of him and Ron. It was slightly larger than Crookshanks, but considerably more docile-looking. Ron frowned at the cat-like animal. 

"I don't trust it." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Hagrid says it's like a cat." 

"Yeah, but look at it's eyes. It has shifty eyes." This caused Harry to roll his eyes. Peering at the Kneazle he saw nothing wrong with its eyes. 

"You're just paranoid," he told Ron matter-of-factly. He bent down and picked it up, cradling it in his arms. The Kneazle purred loudly, sounding somewhat like a motor car. "Here, you take her," he said, holding it out to Ron. 

Looking rather sceptical, Ron took the Kneazle from Harry. It hissed at him, writhing in his arms, and biting him on the finger. Ron dropped it, and it landed on its feet. It faced Ron, its shackles raised and ready to pounce. 

"I told you I didn't trust it!" yelled Ron, clutching his finger tightly with his other hand to stem the blood from the wound. He swore loudly, attracting the attention of many of the other students. It appeared to be a deep bite. Ron glared angrily at the Kneazle before storming off towards the castle, presumably towards the Hospital Wing. 

Harry spotted Malfoy smirking in his direction while his partner, a dark haired girl Harry knew as Hermione's Potions partner, held their black Kneazle in her arms. She didn't seem at all interested in Ron or Harry, but was instead talking quietly to the animal she held. 

~~ ~~~ ~~

"I think he overreacted a bit," commented Hermione that evening when they were in the Hospital Wing, awaiting attention from Madam Pomfrey. 

"You think?" Harry had already changed into his pyjamas and was now sat with Hermione. They were both sat cross-legged on the bed, facing each other. 

There was a moment of silence between them before Hermione spoke, sounding almost embarrassed. "Can I ask you something, Harry?" 

_Uh oh. This doesn't sound good_. "Go ahead." 

Avoiding eye contact she said, "How do you know when you like someone? I mean, really like someone?" 

_What?_ Harry was a little more then surprised by this question. He gulped. "Um... I don't know." He thought for a moment about how he felt when he was around Cho. 

Cho Chang was the Seeker of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. She was a year older than Harry was, and Harry had liked her since the first time he had seen her. "I suppose I get this feeling in my stomach. It's sort of like that moment just before you travel by Portkey mixed with those butterflies you get when you're nervous." 

Hermione nodded. Harry studied her bowed head. She seemed very interested in her shoelace, though Harry knew that she was too embarrassed to meet his face. 

"Hermione, do you like someone?" The colour of her face told Harry his answer. _Please don't be Ron_. "Is it Ron?" he asked tentatively. 

"No!" She actually laughed at this. 

_Thank God for that. That would be too weird_. "So who is it?" 

"I'm not telling you. But, um, I need your advice." She bit her lip. Something about that made her suddenly look much younger. 

_Now she's asking me for advice on boys?_ "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?" 

She scowled, hitting him on the arm. "Be serious, Harry." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. _She's not joking_. "What do you want to know?" 

Hermione swallowed. "Well, there's this boy and every time I'm around him I feel... _giddy_, and I don't know what to do. I've been spending a lot of time with him recently. Probably more than ever before and I'm not sure what I should do next." 

"Have you tried flirting?" Harry suggested. Hermione looked appalled at this suggestion. 

"F-flirting?" she managed to choke out. It seemed for all the changes that Hermione had gone through over the summer, she was still quite unsure when it came to dealing with boys who weren't Harry or Ron. Or Malfoy, for that matter. "Harry, I couldn't!" 

"Yes, you could." Even with Harry's reassurance, Hermione still wasn't convinced. After much persuasion, Harry managed to get her to at least try. 

"Why did you come to me anyway?" he asked. She shrugged. 

"I dunno. I suppose it's because it's a boy problem and you're a boy." Harry grinned at this. "Please don't tell Ron about this," she begged. 

_As if I would... and live to tell the tale_. "I promise." She seemed relieved at this, and clambered off the bed just as Madam Pomfrey came over with the potion for Harry. 

"I'll see you in the morning," she told him, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. Harry nodded, taking the potion from Pomfrey. The nurse didn't even bother telling Harry what to do. This potion was becoming second nature to him now, and he quickly drained the goblet when Hermione had gone. 

The taste was a horrible as ever, somewhere between putrid vegetables and rotting fish with just a hint of mint, but it bothered him less now than it had in the beginning. 

He settled himself into the bed, waiting for the potion to start working. Just as it was starting to kick in, he noticed Matilda, the Gryffindor Reserve Keeper enter the Hospital Wing. This wasn't that unusual. On his many visits to the Hospital Wing he had noticed her in there a lot, though he wasn't sure why. She was never injured or seemed outwardly ill, but Madam Pomfrey always gave her what appeared to be a pitying look and pointed her in the direction of a secluded bed. 

Before he could ponder the reason for her frequent visits, he found himself drifting into a dreamless sleep. 

Harry awoke just over eight hours later. The first thing he did was reach for his glasses, which Madam Pomfrey must have removed from him during the night. He always seemed to forget to take them off when he took the potion. 

Glancing around, he noticed that Matilda had already left, even though it was only a little after seven. It was not yet completely light, and so Harry had to fumble around for his clothes. Madam Pomfrey was already buzzing around mixing up some sort of foul-looking potion. She merely gave him a nod to assent that she saw him leaving. 

To his surprise, Hermione was already up, and was sat in a chair beside the fireplace. There was no fire in the hearth, but the embers were still glowing slightly from the previous night. She was studying a large leather- bound book, her eyes following the words on the page. Every so often she would flip the page over. 

She was so engrossed in the book that it was a while before she noticed Harry watching her. "How long have you been stood there?" she asked. 

"Only a couple of minutes," Harry admitted. 

"Haven't you got anything better to do than watch me?" 

"Nope." Harry grinned. "Whatcha reading?" 

She held up the book so that Harry could read the writing on the cover. _Arithmancy, a History_. "Did the author happen to write _Hogwarts, a History_?" Harry asked. 

"As a matter of fact, yes," confirmed Hermione with a wry smile. "Do you fancy getting an early breakfast? I'm starving." 

Hermione pulled a face. "I kind of promised Ron I'd wait for him last night. Sorry." 

"You do know you're going to have to wait a while. Ron won't be up for at least half an hour." 

"And that shows how little you know me," Ron said, appearing at the foot of the stairs which led to the boy's dormitories. He finished doing his tie, and yawned. Seamus and Dean appeared behind Ron, looking just as bleary- eyed as the redhead did. 

"Where's Neville?" asked Harry. 

There was a loud thud from up the stairs, which seemed to answer Harry's question. Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll go and see what happened to him," he told them. "You lot can go on without me." 

Hermione closed her book, and stood up, smiling brightly. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!" She was already opening the portrait hole before anyone could say anything. With a shrug Seamus followed her, and Harry and Ron were shortly behind them. 

The Great Hall was practically deserted at this time in the morning. It was only about quarter past seven, and many students were probably only just waking up. The Hufflepuff table was completely empty and there were just two Ravenclaws, a pair who seemed more interested in each other than the food in front of them. 

Three people were sat at the Slytherin table. Malfoy seemed to have lost the hulks that normally followed him around (also known as Crabbe and Goyle). They seemed to have become Pansy Parkinson's personal footmen. Pansy also seemed to have lost interest in the blonde Slytherin, and was flirting with any available boys she could, though obviously not those from Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. 

Instead, Draco was in the company of Blaise Zabini and the dark-haired girl. Harry had discovered that her name was Alena Rhyson. He hadn't been able to find out much about her, even from Violet, the portrait who wandered through all the frames in Hogwarts finding the juiciest gossip (and spreading rumours herself). Although Hermione (who worked with her in Potions and was an excellent judge of character besides), assured him that she was actually quite nice. For a Slytherin, that was. 

They seemed to be involved in a very animated conversation, which only broke for a second when the four Gryffindors entered and Draco looked up with something that resembled interest on his face. 

_Wait a minute. Did I just think of him as Draco? What's going on with me? He doesn't deserve to be thought of on a first-name basis_. 

Harry was interrupted by his thoughts by Ron and Hermione. Ron was holding out a plate to her, but she held up a hand and pushed it away. 

"No thanks," she said, "I've decided to become a vegetarian." She helped herself to a piece of toast and began to butter it. 

Ron raised an eyebrow at this. "You're what?" 

"Becoming a vegetarian," Hermione repeated. She took a bite of her toast. When she had swallowed it, she added, "Honestly, some of the things they do to animals is horrible!" 

Ron obviously wasn't convinced, though. He held out his own breakfast towards her. "Look, Hermione. Bacon, sausages, hash browns." 

"Hash browns don't have meat in them," pointed out Hermione. Ron considered this for a moment before continuing with his taunting as Hermione calmly poured a goblet of pumpkin juice. 

"Bacon, sausages, black pudding." He waved his plate under her nose, trying to entice her with the smell of his breakfast. 

"Hey, lay off you uncaring prick," Seamus told him, sounding annoyed with Ron. "She's serious about this. You should support her." 

Ron just rolled his eyes at this, but Hermione gave him a grateful smile, blushing slightly about the fact that Seamus had stood up for her. 

This didn't go unnoticed by Harry. _Seamus? Is he the one Hermione was on about?_ As they ate their breakfast, idly chatting about Halloween (which was only a few days away), Harry watched Hermione carefully without her noticing. Harry's suspicions seemed to be confirmed. Every so often Hermione would steal a glance at Seamus, before fixing her gaze on something else. 

Another curious thing was that she wasn't the only one. Seamus seemed to have a habit of gazing at Hermione, though he never looked at her when she looked at him. 

_Hmmm. I might have to have a word with him later_, Harry decided. 

Feeling eyes upon him, Harry glanced around. He looked over at the Slytherin table, but Draco, sorry, _Malfoy_, was staring into a bowl of porridge. 

~~ ~~~ ~~

Since Malfoy had told him that he had spotted Harry at night, on some of the nights which Harry didn't take the potion, he had taken to wearing his Invisibility Cloak when he went on his midnight excursions. 

The feeling of having the entire school to oneself was exhilarating, especially when there was always the possibility of getting caught. He got a buzz from hiding from Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris. It was even better than flying on his Firebolt at top speed. 

Normally there was very little action in the corridors, except maybe when he saw Peeves causing mayhem under the cover of darkness or various other ghosts going about their business. Tonight, however, Harry heard voices coming from the Charms corridor as he drew nearer. 

Naturally, he was curious, and was surprised to find he recognised the voices. Hermione and Draco. 

_Dammit. Malfoy, not Draco_. 

Harry stood in silence a few feet away from the pair, who appeared to be doing a bit of verbal sparring. 

Hermione seemed as cool and composed as she ever did. Even though she was in her uniform, she had evidently been to the Prefects Bathroom. Her hair looked damp and was tied into two braids that hung either side of her head. Malfoy was dressed in his uniform as well, his Prefect badge glinting in the moonlight that filtered through the nearby window. 

This same moonlight highlighted his pale complexion, making him look almost white. Hermione also looked slightly different in the light, her skin taking on a porcelain doll look, making her appear more serious and adult than Harry had seen her for a long time. 

"I see you've ventured out without the Boy Wonder. What happened? Did he dump you too?" 

"Hardly. Where are the Incredible Hulks? I see you've replaced your body guards with a couple of girls." 

"Leave Blaise and Alena out of this," Draco seemed to snarl. 

"Out of what?" asked Hermione innocently. 

"Us." Hermione looked interested at this. "There's an 'us' is there?" she asked. Her voice had dropped to a low whisper. If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have sworn she was flirting with him. But he did know Hermione better than that. What better to use against someone than his or her own personality? 

It was clear from the way he acted around Hogwarts he believed himself to be quite the ladies man. Harry had to agree with this. Girls from most houses agreed how good-looking he was. Harry could sort of see their point. 

_Wait. Did I just agree that he's good-looking?_ Harry shuddered slightly at the thought. 

Malfoy looked genuinely shocked by Hermione's sudden change in demeanour. Hermione took a step forward, and Harry watched Malfoy's eyes widen slightly at this, though he retained his calm exterior. She ran a delicate finger along Malfoy's jaw line. "What's the matter, Malfoy? Are you scared of little old me?" 

It seemed to suddenly dawn on Malfoy what she was doing. He angrily pushed her arm away. She merely smiled at him. 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Granger?" 

"It's the highlight of my day," she told him dryly. 

The Slytherin appeared to be briefly impressed by Hermione. There was a spark in his eyes that told Harry this. 

"You certainly are a fascinating creature, Granger. I see you finally discovered your sexuality." 

A second later, Malfoy found himself being forced against the wall by Hermione, whose face was set with a grim determination. 

Malfoy just smirked. "What's the matter? Did I just get the little Mudblood angry?" 

It was Hermione's turn to smirk. "Oh, I'm not angry. Trust me, you don't want to see me when I'm angry." She let go of her hold on Malfoy and walked away without another word. Malfoy began shouting after her, but Filch was soon on him. 

"I'd have thought a Prefect would know better than shouting in the corridors at night. I know you lot are allowed out, but there's no reason for you to be causing a disturbance," scowled Filch, though in his eyes it was obvious he was delighted at being able to punish a student. "Come with me, boy." 

By now Hermione was far away, and Harry had to run to keep up. She suddenly stopped, a couple of corridors from Gryffindor Towers. She stared straight at where Harry was stood. 

Harry held his breath. He had his Invisibility Cloak on. _She can't see me, right?_

"Filch is going to be busy with Malfoy for at least fifteen minutes and Mrs Norris is using a statue in the Transfiguration corridor as a scratching post. You can take the cloak off, Harry." She put her hands on her hips, waiting for Harry to comply. 

Reluctantly, Harry pulled the cloak off. "How did you know I was there?" he asked curiously. 

Hermione frowned. "I suppose I just knew. You've had that cloak for a few years now, and I could tell someone else was around that I couldn't see." 

"How did you know it wasn't a ghost." 

"Ghosts don't have footsteps." 

"Ah." Hermione grinned at him. "Come on, I'm exhausted," she said, trying not to yawn. 

Looking at her, this was obvious. He could see now that there were dark circles around her eyes. "I think you're the one who needs the dreamless sleep potion more than me," Harry said, but she shook her head. 

As they continued walking toward the portrait hole, Hermione talked. "I just have trouble getting to sleep, that's all. I don't have nightmares like you." 

Once inside the Common Room, Hermione bade him a goodnight before going up the stairs to her dormitory. 

_She's more of a mystery than I thought_. 

"You really shouldn't be up at this hour," a voice told Harry. Turning around, he saw Matilda sat in a chair behind him. "Neither should I, really. Poppy says I need all the sleep I can get." 

_Poppy? Oh, she means Madam Pomfrey_. 

"Why?" 

"Because she a sensible old cow who just wants the best for me." 

"Why is being sensible a bad thing?" 

Matilda studied Harry carefully. Finally she said, "Trust me, my little grasshopper, I'm beyond caring about being sensible and following the rules." 

"Why?" She smiled mysteriously. "So many questions. You really should stop asking so many." 

Harry frowned. Why did girls have to be such a mystery? Matilda rose from her seat and grinned at him. "G'night, Harry. Hope you sleep well." She disappeared before Harry could say anything else. People seemed to have a habit of doing this. 

~~ ~~~ ~~

It was the day before Halloween before Harry managed to corner Seamus. The sandy-haired boy seemed especially surprised that Harry wanted to talk to him alone. 

Harry got straight to the point. "What do you think of Hermione?" 

Seamus was taken aback by this sudden question, and it showed on his face. "W-what?" 

"What do you think of Hermione?" Harry repeated patiently. 

"She's a very nice girl. Thoughtful, intelligent, surprising and I suppose she's quite pretty, in an understated kinda way." He blushed as he said this. "Why?" 

"Do you like her?" 

"Of course." 

Harry was surprised at this. "I mean, really like her. Romantically." 

The Irish boy frowned, and his line of vision drifted to the floor so he didn't have to meet Harry's eyes. (This was another thing Harry found people doing a lot. What was it with people not making eye contact with him?) 

"Maybe. I'm not really sure. She came back this year so completely different that before. I'm still trying to figure out all the changes." 

_You're not the only one_, Harry sighed. 

Seamus continued. "I think I like her, but then I'm not sure. I think she's more interested in you than me, mate." 

"Trust me, she's not." 

This sparked Seamus's interested, but then he looked slightly disheartened. "She must like Ron, then." 

Harry shook his head. "Not a chance. She likes someone else." 

"Oh." Seamus looked disappointed by this. A bell rang in the distance. "I'd better get to Muggle Studies," he told Harry. He wandered off; bag over his shoulder, leaving Harry slightly dazed. Seamus didn't appear to think for even a second that it was him Hermione liked. 

_Looks like I've got my work cut out for me_. 

~~ ~~~ ~~   
TBC   
~~ ~~~ ~~

Natasha's Notes: Yes, that's right; Natasha's Notes. I finally get my say! Well, if I didn't Amy would probably mention me (yet again) being mean to Shadows!Draco [Shadows!Hermione cackles Macbeth-style and wonders if she's ever going to get a chapter to curse Draco, err... Malfoy]   
Amy: I'll think about it, but only if Shadows!Draco can curse Shadows!Hermione back.   
Natasha: Another chapter over with, and yet more developments for Shadows!Harry to contend with: Hermione continuing to be surprising, Matilda being secretive, Ron being a prat, Seamus being naive and Draco being... well, Draco. You'll have to keep an eye out for the next Harry chapter to discover more, and hopefully by then Amy will have stopped moaning about me knocking her precious Draco out. If she doesn't I think I might let Hermione risk her Prefecture by having a bit of fun. ;D   
Amy: Shutting up... now! But Shadows!Harry might be in for it next chapter... wait and see!   
Natasha: A big thank you to all our reviewers - you're all so nice and complimentary! Please R&R - we love getting your feedback. 

Next Chapter: The longest of all possible days (made even longer by my farting around - the whole chapter just keeps growing and growing and growing some more). Lots of rain and a leaky ceiling (and quite possibly, a flooded out dormitory). A lost voice and more Infirmary visits (they seem to be a regular thing). Ron gets what he deserves (in more ways than one). A midnight visit to a certain gargoyle and a certain Professor (no prizes for correctly guessing whom). A secret is revealed (but not in a way that you would expect). Hermione does it again (this should be fun!). You know where the review button is... USE IT! 


	7. Draco: When Silence Is A Welcome Friend

**The Spaces Between Shadow & Night**

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

**Chapter 6  
**_When Silence Is A Welcome Friend_

It had been raining for three days now, it seemed to realise how Draco was feeling on the inside and the weather mourned for him. No, there were no huge claps of thunder, nor were there any great flashes of energy as lightning danced its way back into the sky. Nothing that would have made Draco feel refreshed, energised, angered enough to continue to strut and sneer and look down his elegantly pointed nose at all the little people who weren't worth an inch of his time.

No, outside, it was bleak. The misty cloudy soup lay low over the Hogwarts grounds like smog hugged Inner-London; suffocating, weathering, miserable in its intent. It was damp and oppressing; the floors seemed endlessly wet and muddy, the appearance of house elves in their dozens could now be viewed everywhere, helping the ever-grumbling Filch mop up every drop of foreign moisture.

The sun hadn't appeared for nearly seventy-two hours, and if it weren't for the teachers and their keen sense of time, and the growls of stomachs as a sign of hunger, the students wouldn't know what time it was at all. Hogwarts was void of clocks completely, apart form the scattered amount of students who had personal alarm clocks of their own. The time-telling watches were confided to the Muggle-born population at Hogwarts, Draco as a severe loss in this department, only bearing a place-telling watch of his own. 

Professor Snape had taken to rapping on all the dormitory doors of a morning by the second day, until someone answered his curt knock; the students, bleary eyed, peering outside for any sign that the wet might cease. No such relief came.

It seemed as constant as the rumours flying around concerning Harry recently. Covering everything from sleeping sickness to him dying from an incurable disease. _If only they could know the truth_, smirked Inner-Draco in a rather self-satisfied manner. 

Violet was partly a stem of these rumours, and some of the more sneaky third year Slytherins had faked symptoms of the illness that had incapacitated most of the Hufflepuffs recently to see if they could see the Gryffindor in all his sicknesses. Unfortunately, they went near the middle of the day, while Harry was notably in Transfigurations under Professor McGonagall's watchful eye, and they were all given a sharp scolding from Madam Pomfrey for wasting her time.

Draco had occasionally gone back after his concussion, never fully admitting to the questioning nurse how he sustained the injury, complaining of a headache. Sometimes he would stay for minutes, sometimes he would stay an hour. Sometimes he would watch the moonlight flicker off the white washed walls, sometimes he would sit on one of the empty beds and watch Harry sleep, a sleep brought on by magical means. And at some stage, as soon as Madam Pomfrey was out of sight, Draco would reach over, removing Harry's glasses that were still perched on the bridge of his nose, fold up the arms of them against the glass, and lay them on his bedside table, ready for the morning.

These headaches were usually sincere however, due to the general rowdiness of the Slytherin Commonroom and the fact that many of the upper classes were letting off steam. They were confined from their thoughts and opinions around the rest of the school about the appending war and the stand of Voldemort, which the Ministry was still feverently denying at every turn.

Draco stayed away from these subjects, slipping away to his schoolwork and books. Over the past month he had discovered Muggle Literature, mainly from Alena's influence, and was now deeply emersed in _The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe_, which he was finding surprisingly enjoyable. Alena had laughed at him for choosing a set of 'children's books' to read, but he had simply shrugged his slender shoulders and devoured them without fear of what others thought on the matter.

He never explained to her that he had always loved the way his mother read to him when he was young, and that she would use funny voices, letting the characters leap out from the pages, into his own mind and dreams. And reading these books now gave him the sense of childhood once more, smiling up at the ceiling and his own reverent darkness above him. He loved hearing Aslan's roar, talking with fauns, and thinking that maybe, just maybe, his world would extend far enough to walking down his own wardrobe at home, and stepping out into a whole new world of his very own.

Maybe then, he wouldn't have to choose. Light or dark. Dumbledore or Voldemort. 

Harry Potter or Lucius Malfoy.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Draco woke up on the fourth morning of rain uncomfortable and cramped. The fifth year dormitory had sprung a leak sometime during the night, and Greg, Vince, Daniel Worthington and himself had set to, pilling their belongings on their respective beds, placed a large bucket that Daniel had scrounged up from somewhere and fled for the warm and dripless common-room.

Draco was utterly miserable. He felt off-colour and as grey as the drizzle outside, the endlessly dull days with no comforting night-darkness to sooth him was beginning to take its toll. But it wasn't just Draco. All the students were feeling the effects, all of them used to being able to wander outside whenever the fancy took them between classes, illicit midnight strolls around the edges of the lake or the Forbidden Forest, even the feeling of sunshine through the classroom windows. Instead they were faced with near-constant rain.

Everyone wilted; meals were unusually quiet; even the usually robust Gryffindors slumped in the seats in the Great Hall, falling asleep over their plates. The sound of the rain on the enchanted ceiling overpowering any of the hushed murmurs of conversation that sprang up, fell, rose, then fell away again, half-hearted in their attempts to start to begin with.

The whole day dragged to Draco. Transfigurations was an utter bore, a difficult bore come to that. Transfigurations had never been Draco's strong point and he was even more infuriated when he saw that Potter and Granger were both successful by the third attempt to change their beetles into owls. The most Draco seemed to be able to do was get his owl half the required size…and it had _feelers_. McGonagall shook her hair in despair at him and then moved on.

Arithmancy would have been alright if Professor Vector hadn't split up Blaise and himself, pairing her with Hannah Abbott and himself with Granger. Most of the lesson was spent contradicting each other constantly, and by the end of it, Draco had his own personal mini storm cloud hanging over his head.

He stormed into Potions with the fierce intent to hex the first person who spoke to him in a less that respectful manner, and considering who his partner was, it would be sooner rather than later. He slammed himself into the seat next to Potter, who didn't even flinch. 

If Draco had even remotely thought previously that he was off-colour today, faint shadows under his grey eyes, his hair loosing its place around the edges, fringe swinging in his eyes, stiff and sore from sleeping awkwardly on a couch; he had nothing on Harry.

The bags under his eyes were threatening to overtake his pale and thin face, he looked tired and weak, head slumped against the desk, hunched up, from lines etching their way all over his face, hair falling limply into his bleary eyes. Draco felt a faint pang of sympathy.

"You look like shit Potter." Draco always did know how to dish out sympathy, smirking.

Harry rolled his eyes, choosing not to speak, but simply scribbling something down on a piece of paper and sliding it across the desk towards Draco. Four words were betrayed there. 

**I've lost my voice.**

Draco chuckled, delighted with this new take on things.

"Really? You don't say?" Harry gave him the evil eye. "It was working in Transfigurations thought. Are you sure it's really gone?"

**It was going near the end of the Transfiguration. I spent the last half of Divinations with Madam Pomfrey. She thinks it may be a possible side effect of the dreamless sleep potion. Or laryngitis. This sucks.**

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow as he deciphered Harry's messy scrawl and smirked openly.

"I'll bet. Up-point for me though, Potter. This way I can hassle you all I want and you can't _say a thing_ against me."

**Oh shut up.**

"Not a chance!" Draco grinned mischievously, mentally rubbing his hands together with glee.

Snape strode into the classroom a second later; banging the door shut and stared menacingly down as the all. But before he could say anything, Harry raised his hand. This practice alone was distinctly unheard of in the Potions classroom, unless of course, you were a Slytherin, because Snape would never call on the people who raised their hands. 

Hence why Hermione never got to answer any questions, because Snape was sure to pick on the students (excluding his own house) who was sure to _not_ know the answer. Not that he needed a solid excuse to try and help the other houses (especially Gryffindor) from failing to win the house cup. It was a vicious and predictable cycle, and one that most students were utterly comfortable with, especially with Harry and Hermione in their class, Snape's favourites for picking on.

"Mister Potter?" Snape sounded vaguely startled. Harry brandished a note from one of his inner pockets and held it adrift. Snape snatched it from him, looking suspiciously at the black-haired teen. The entire class held their breaths as Snape read the note, before looking up at Harry and smirking. 

"Cat finally got your tongue, Potter? Well, at lease the rest of the class will be spared the sound of your voice today." Harry rolled his eyes. "The rest of you, on with your practical potions. Remember there is to be no use of your texts today. If you don't get it right now, then you probably never will." he turned back to Harry with a sneer. "Mister Potter, don't let this…disability hold Mister Malfoy up."

Granger stood by Harry's elbow a second later, Alena hovering behind her, curiosity written all over all face. Hermione, on the other hand, looked plain out worried.

"He's just lost his voice, Granger, it's not life threatening." Draco jumped in before the witch could say anything. Alena raised her eyebrow at him, while Granger stared.

"Harry?" she asked sympathetically, turning her gaze back to her best friend.

He nodded at her, before waving his hand to shoo her away, not wishing Snape to find any reason to take points off Gryffindor, especially for _socialising_. He slid out of his seat and turned to Draco, pointing to the ingredient storeroom. Draco nodded, understanding his meaning.

"I'll set up here."

The class was soon deeply into the potions, Harry and Draco working like polished glass together, efficiently and with complete competency. Harry chopped, diced, ground and measured their ingredients with a steady hand, Draco mixing and stirring with flair and perfect timing. They seemed to be able to communicate silently; Harry because he had to, Draco out of a growing trust about his partners' ability. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone and let them live to tell the tale.

They were a pleasure to watch.

The few times that they did need to communicate, they scribbled notes to each other on some spare parchment that was slid along the desk between the two.

_D - How long do I have to wait before I add the Mandrake blood?_

**H - Ten minutes, but make sure it doesn't boil too hard otherwise Snape'll be making us clean up for two days after it explodes all over the classroom.**

_D - Will do. Hey! Don't shred that Knuckle Root too finely!_

**H - I won't. Now leave me alone and concentrate on your job Stirring Boy.**

_D - Shut up. And I'm not a boy Scarface. I'm a man._

**H - Dream on, wimp.**

_D - Dreaming about me, Potter? I'm flattered._

**H - Go stick your head in a bucket.**

_D - Only if you'll show me how._

**H - I can do better than that, I'll hold the bloody thing in there myself!**

Draco hadn't had this much fun in a long, long while.

~~ ~~~ ~~

That night, Draco was sitting on one of the third level windowsills still chuckling over his 'paper fight' with Harry. He lent his head back against the wall of the ledge and sighed from deep inside himself, the rain battering the window effortlessly.

Draco felt content. And the feeling was surprisingly agreeable.

Despite the weather, the uneasy sleeping, the constant damp chill hanging over the dungeons, despite McGonagall in Transfigurations and Granger in Arithmancy, Draco felt _good_.

And all because of a seemingly meaningless 'paper fight' right under Snape's nose. With _Potter_. _Of all people_, sighed Inner-Draco, before retreating again. Draco couldn't understand himself sometimes…he was never 'silly' - well, at least, never on purpose - and yet, sit him with Potter for five minutes and he was play fighting and goofing around. And _enjoying it_! He chuckled to himself and was just starting to unfurl his lengthening limps to retreat back to the dungeons and his bed when a figure stumbled blindly around the corner farthest from him and into the opposing wall.

Draco leapt to his feet defensive, drawing his wand reflexively, when he realised who it was.

"Potter!" he growled loudly, striding quickly to the raven-haired boys' side. Harry was supporting himself weakly against the wall, one hand clapped on the bricks in front of him, keeping his balance, one hand clenched onto his forehead. _And his scar_, thought Draco insanely.

"Potter, are you okay?" Draco reminded himself to stay calm, to stay cool, focused; his voice low and level.

Harry shook his head pitifully, wincing from the movement.

"Where are you going?" Draco did a fast mental map of the corridors. "The Infirmary's that way." He pointed vainlessly, the way that the boy had stumbled from. Harry shook his head again, his eyes desperately trying to convey his meaning to Draco.

"Potter, you _need to go to the Infirmary_. You can barely stand." Reasoned Draco, fumbling his fingertips on Harry's sharp elbow.

Harry fixed a stare into Draco's confused eyes and slowly lifted his hand away from his head, sweeping the fringe away with its movement. Draco gasped before he could stop himself.

The lightning bolt scar was raised off Harry's skin angrily, pulsing and fiery red. It burned under Draco's fleeting sweep on his fingertips across it and Harry flinched visible.

Draco suddenly understood.

"Dumbledore." An urgent nod was his reply.

He swept his hand around Harry's slender waist without even thinking about it first, supporting as much of Harry's weight as he could without crashing to the ground himself. Despite his slenderness, Harry was still a dead weight from the pain crippling his senses to Draco. The two figures sloped up stairs and down corridors as quickly as they could manage. Draco spent most of this time muttering silently about how to handle the situation of _him and Harry_ in front of Dumbledore. He was also worrying about the pain sparking across Harry's face whenever he was jolted too hard, and wondering how the hell Potter had made it from the Gryffindor Tower to where he had been sitting on the third floor without kneeling over.

They reached the gargoyle and Draco gasped "Sugar Quills."

Dumbledore had always informed the Prefects of any password changes, and the Prefects had a running book on what sweet the Headmaster would choose next. Draco rang the warning bell to announce their arrival, guiding Harry onto the moving staircase in front of him at the same time, his arm firmly around his waist keeping him upright.

Dumbledore was looking out of his office door worriedly when the two boys came into sight at the top, a dark blue dressing robe wrapped firmly around him, beard tucked away in the sash. "Harry? Draco? Come in, come in!" 

They were bustled in and Dumbledore conjured up a teapot as Draco began to explain with a rush. 

"I ran into him on the third floor, Professor, and tried to get him to the Infirmary, but he made it absolutely clear that he needed to see you. Well, as clear as he could Professor, considering he can't talk." Draco sank into a chair thankfully, worn out from the efforts to get Harry up here.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey informed me of that, thank you Draco. Harry?" Dumbledore moved his concerned gaze over to him.

Harry lifted his hand away from his scar again, eyes pleading and in pain.

Dumbledore looked grim. "Voldemort?"

Harry nodded, casting a worried glance at Draco, one that did not go unnoticed by the Slytherin.

"I should probably go." Draco hesitantly made a move to stand. Harry reached out quickly and halted his progress, shaking his head decisively, pulling him back into his seat. 

Dumbledore poured them some tea and passed the cups around, Draco sipping gratefully and feeling a spreading warmth trickle through his body, calming him wound-up emotions.

"Can you write it down, Harry?" A nod. "Very well."

Paper and ink, as well as a fine feather quill, were produced. Draco leaned forward to read what Harry was scribbling.

**Voldemort, Wormtail, Nott, Avery** - A sideway glance at Draco - **Lucius.**

Draco's blood ran cold at the sight of his father's name.

**Torturing and killing a Muggle family. Name of Jefferson. Little girl - Ella? Ellie? - They said she was a Mudblood. Put her under Cruciatus - she didn't last very long. Killed her parents and her little brothers too…pain in scar. Unbearable.**

_Father_? Draco felt broken on the inside as this brief and messy note was passed over to the Headmaster. His blood was cold in his veins and he felt utterly helpless. _My father…_

Dumbledore sighed. "Jefferson. Ally Jefferson. I was so looking forward to having her here at Hogwarts next year."

Harry looked shaken, his hands shivering violently against the arm of his chair, the cold reality sinking in through his face, tightening every muscle in his body. _My father_, thought Draco dumbly, _my father was involved in…_his stomach churned and he felt bile rising in his throat.

"Thank you for coming straight to me Harry," Dumbledore was taking charge again. "I think it would probably be best if you went straight to the hospital wing and stayed under Madam Pomfrey's excellent care for the time being. At least until you recover your voice at least." 

He focused on Draco, who was in the process of turning a faint green colour. "You had best stay there too, Mister Malfoy. Don't bother with your classes tomorrow, I'll inform both your Professors of your absences accordingly. Stay over the weekend if you feel the need." He snapped his fingers and a folded piece of paper appeared, holding it out to Draco who took it gingerly. "Give this to Poppy. A portkey would probably be best at the moment."

Dumbledore waved his wand and the fine feather quill in front of Harry glowed for a moment. Draco felt Harry's shaky, papery hand close over his arm and grip it tightly before hearing Dumbledore's "Sleep well boys." and then the familiar tug just below his navel gripped him and they were swept away.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Madam Pomfrey, as usual, fussed around the two boys efficiently. Pyjamas were thrust into their hands and curtains drawn around two beds, after reading Dumbledore's crisp note, produced soundlessly by Draco.

Draco had fought his nausea long enough to put on a brave and haughty face on for the nurse, but he didn't suspect that she was fooled by it for one single second. She clipped off to fetch some Dreamless Sleep Potion for them both, as well as a Stomach Calming Draught for Draco, leaving the two boys to change and crawl into bed.

She returned with the potions, some parchments, ink and a bell, these last three items all for Harry to communicate, and the bell to attract attention. They settled down as the lights dimmed in retreat of Pomfrey, leaving Harry and Draco alone at last.

Harry scribbled something on the parchment and passed it across the gap in their beds, the drawn curtains masking them from the outside world.

**Are you alright?**

Draco shrugged. "Not really."

**I shouldn't have made you stay…but I just thought…you needed to know…**

"You did the right thing." Draco smiled ironically. "I'm not sure why it shocked me as much as it did really."

**Fair enough.**

"What about you? How are you feeling? You could barely stand for a while there."

**I'm OK. The pain…it's pretty intense sometimes. I'm lucky I ran into you when I did, otherwise I may have passed out or gotten lost and never made it to Dumbledore.**

"What's with that scar anyway? It was all…red and angry."

**Dumbledore had a theory - it's kind of my direct link to Voldemort…whenever he's feeling murderous, I can feel a pain in my scar, and when he kills someone, it replays in my head while he's doing it…but it usually only happens when I'm sleeping. It's not always so extreme though - sometimes it's just a really uncomfortable twinge, sometimes it's agony.**

"It looked it. Why are you tell me all of this though?"

**The look on your face when you saw your fathers name. It spoke volumes.**

Draco shrugged, shaking on the inside. He read over Harry's observations again. "Why didn't any of you Gryffindor buddies get you to Dumbledore?"

**Seamus and Neville could sleep through World War Three, Dean's got detention with Filch tonight and Ron still isn't talking to me very much. We're still pretty strained.**

"Why is that? The Weasel finally get sick of being the side kick?"

**To be honest, I'm not sure. He's got it into his head that Hermione and I are spending too much time together. Like we're doing it to him deliberately.**

Harry pulled an expressive face.

"The Weasel is jealous then?"

**Guess so.**

"Has he got anything to be jealous of, Potter? Have you and Granger finally taken the step beyond 'just friends'?

**No! Hermione's brilliant and everything, but she's my best friend! Dating her…well it'd be like dating my _sister_! Arg.**

"I'm sure the Weasel would be more than happy to."

**Well if he doesn't stop acting like a complete prat relatively quickly he doesn't stand a chance in hell. Hermione's right sick of this little jealously trip he has going on at the moment. It's like he wants her all to himself.**

Draco snorted. "I can't see anything getting between Granger and her studies." Harry nodded emphatically in agreement.

**Exactly. Well, maybe someone could. Just not Ron.**

They lay back on their pillows, before a thought niggled in at Draco's concentration. "It seems weird, Potter, not hearing your voice." Trying to be nonchalant.

**It's weird not talking, Malfoy. But there's an up side.**

"What's that?" Draco traced his last name and feverently wished he could scratch it out forever. Blot it, and tonight, from his memory.

**When you've lost your voice, no one can hear you scream.**

Draco was shocked, turning onto his side to face Harry, watching as three teardrops escaped the edge of his eye and trailed a silvery thread down to the hollow behind his ear and onto the pillow.

And he remained lying on his side, watching the Sleeping Potion kick in and the gentle rise and fall of Harry's chest, before leaning over and removing the glasses perched on his nose, just as he had done many times before, before letting the potion and sleep swallow him up.

~~ ~~~ ~~

When Draco woke, uneasily, the next morning, he had to take several moments to realise where he actually was. Harry was still sleeping soundless, enchanted or naturally, he was simply exhausted, the sheet rising and falling with even breath. Draco felt sluggish on waking, his mind slow, swinging his legs out of bed to head to the bathroom, trying to push the sleep away. Sunlight flooded the ward closed out by the hospital issue curtains surrounding their beds and Draco stumbled to the window, peering with blinking eyes out into the cool autumn air.

The rain had finally stopped.

~~ ~~~ ~~

A week later, the castle was abuzz with Halloween fever, relishing in their freedom of being able to go outdoors once again. It had been one of the hardest weeks of Draco's life just trying to act like nothing was wrong with him. Last week, he had spent the Friday in the Infirmary trying to sort out the pieces of his world, talking to the voiceless Harry when he was awake, occasionally watching his as he dozed through restless sleep, almost captivated by the silent torture creasing his face. On Saturday, he had written a letter to his mother, unable to face 'Dear Father', requesting to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas.

_I want to work on my flying and classwork: most people will be going home this year, so the castle will be quiet and I'll have good use of the library._

_I hope you are not too disappointed by this, but it is the OWL's this year and I am determined to do well and make you proud of me._

_Love always, _

_Your not-so-little-anymore Dragon._

The thought of his mother had always soothed him like no other. And now, it was Halloween afternoon, and he and Blaise strode up and down the Slytherin table, lighting the Jack-O-Lanterns and spooky shaped candles, levitating them to add a ghostly glow to the up-coming feast. Two sixth year prefects attended the Hufflepuff table, while the Ravenclaw Seeker Cho handled her table alone. Granger and Katie Bell were doing the honours of the Gryffindor table with much laughter, and Draco could swear that his sensitive hearing had picked up his name being mentioned several times. The side door crashed open and Draco threw out a greeting.

"Hey Alena!" The black-haired girl glared at him, her expression full of anger and sorrow.

"What's wrong?" asked Blaise distractedly, squabbling with one of the more talkative Jack-O-Lanterns that was rudely informing her that he did not want to be levitated, thank you very much, and she could just keep her wand to herself. She was threatening to set fire to him if he didn't co-operate…Blaise knew how to get her way.

"My mother had decided to visit the American side of the family for Christmas, so now, unfortunately, I'm stuck here." Alena thumped down on the long seat and rested her chin on her up-turned wrists.

"Why can't you go with her?" Draco asked, confused. This was the first time that he had heard of Alena's 'Americans'.

"Because Great-Aunt Katherine will be there, and Great-Aunt Katherine 'disapproves' of me." Alena rolled her eyes. "And that's nothing compared to Uncle Philip, who just plain out hates me. He thinks I'm too 'outspoken'."

"You're not outspoken."

"Maybe not compared to you Draco, but to them, I am. They're a much of American snobs…arrogant, conservative, blander than the Kansas plains, and that's saying something." She pulled a face. "I can't think of anything worse. They are the American answer to Chinese Water-Torture…and my cousins are all walking nightmares."

"So you're stuck her for Christmas." observed Draco nonchalantly.

"Yep." Alena replied, still looking glum.

"With a bunch of Gryffindorks." _Potter's staying_, he added to himself silently. _Potter always stays_.

"Looks that way."

Draco sighed dramatically, exchanging a mock evil glance with Blaise, lighting the candle in front of him with an impressive flick of his wrist. "It's a good think I'm staying as well then, isn't it, otherwise we'd come back to find you converted!"

Alena's head shot up, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Really? Truly?" Draco shrugged, grinning at his friend.

"You're not just pulling my leg?"

"Now would I do a thing like that?" queried Draco, an innocent look on his face. 

Blaise and Alena both nodded. "Yes!"

The hall rang with Draco's laughter.

His laughter was interrupted by the sound of the Great Hall doors being swung open and Granger's delighted voice, breaking through everything. "Harry! You're back!"

The three Slytherins turned and watched with morbid fascination as Granger hugged her best friend fiercely. Harry smiled at the girl warmth and said something in low tones to her, and a few moments later, she nodded her assent, turning to tell Katie Bell to continue without her, and together, they turned and walked over to the Slytherin table. Cho's eyes followed them suspiciously and Inner-Draco pipped up for the first time in a week, _if looks could kill_. Draco shuddered all over, feeling his skin crawl away.

Alena smiled at the pain, her usual sunny disposition returned at Draco's admission and 'company'. "Hi Hermione, Harry."

Alena was practically the only Slytherin who could get away with calling Gryffindors by their first names, after flattening a seventh year who had the audacity to tell her that she couldn't some time last year. She was now tagged an untrue Slytherin, and therefore left well alone. She didn't give a toss about it either.

"Hi Alena," replied Hermione, Harry nodding to the girl by way of greeting.

"Hey Malfoy," Harry's voice sounded hoarse and cracked, but at least it was there. "Snape told me that we've got some kind of mid-term assignment due and that you had the details."

"Mmm. But I don't have it with me. I'll give it to you later." Draco busied himself with the candles, not looking at Harry at all.

"Sure. No hurry." A sudden coughing fit overtook him suddenly and he sank on to the Slytherin bench, Hermione rubbing his back gently.

"That _does not_ sound healthy." commented Blaise, moving further and further down the table.

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione, quietly concerned.

Harry nodded, the coughs clearing away. He sat back, rubbing his hand over his chest trying to relieve the dull ache in his lungs. He looked around suspiciously. "So this is how the other half lives."

"What do you mean?" Draco spoke sharply, earning a glare from Alena.

"Well, sitting here…at the Slytherin table." Harry sounded vague, looking around him still.

"Enemy territory." grinned Alena.

"Almost wasn't though, that's the scary bit."

"Huh?"

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

Draco turned roughly, his attention caught. "Excuse me, Potter, did I just hear you correctly? The Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin…_and you turned it down_? Why?"

"Yeah, it said something about great ambition. But I guess I didn't really fancy being in the same house as the guy who killed my parents was in." Draco stared at him incredulously. "I didn't really know anything about the houses before I came, so I took everything pretty much as face value. Plus," Harry raised his eyebrow at him. "You certainly influenced my views on the Slytherin house, and trust me, none of them were very nice."

Draco scowled, turning away with a muttered, "Mad. Completely barmy."

"So are you two going home for Christmas?" queried Alena.

"Nope. Nothing to go home to." smiled Hermione. "My parents have decided to escape the winter and go to the Greek Islands. Dad's having his third mid-life crisis so I have opted to stay here rather than face Dad in leather on a motorcycle." she shuddered visibly.

"And will probably spend the entire time _studying_." Hermione punched her best friend lightly on the shoulder in retaliation.

"And you, Harry?"

"Staying," he said with a shrug. "As usual."

Alena didn't press the point. "Well, so am I."

"And I," added Draco delicately, before tacking the conversation suddenly elsewhere. "And the Weasel?"

Harry shrugged and Hermione sighed, deeply. "Going."

"What!?" Harry stared at her. "How do you know?"

"He told me so himself, yesterday. They're all going, including Bill. Molly's insistence."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Who else is staying?"

"Just us so far. All the other Year Fives are going, and so far, no one from the lower years have signed up to stay. Alicia's not sure whether or not she's staying or going, but the general consensus is that practically the entire house is heading home. It'll be weird, just you and me for Christmas."

Harry looked shell-shocked, resting his elbows on the table, eyes confused behind his glasses. 

Alena watched him carefully before trying to lighten the mood. "Oh well, all the more food for all of us," she said brightly. "A snowball fight or two, lounging in front of the fire, sleeping in-"

"Oh, don't mention sleep, please!" groaned Harry jokingly. "I've had more sleep over the past week than I ever thought possible. And if I end up back in the Infirmary and time soon I _will_ go crazy."

"You're already crazy as far as I can tell, Potter. And I'll give you until the next Quidditch game to be seeing the Infirmary again." Draco finished with the candles, and sat down a few feet away from Harry, still not fulling facing him.

"Don't jinx me! I've managed this long without sustaining any injuries, I don't want to break my good record just yet!"

Draco smirked openly. "Your record's hardly good with all your illicit midnight strolls." Draco suddenly realised he'd stuck his foot right in there when he took in the despair on Harry's face, the calculating look on Alena's and the seriousness of Hermione's tone.

"Harry! What is Malfoy talking about? What _midnight strolls_?"

"Nothing Hermi, it's nothing." he soothed her, before glaring at Draco venomously. "_Malfoy_ doesn't _know_ what he's _talking about_."

"Harry!" she stamped her foot and folded her arms and opened her mouth…and nothing came out.

They all stared at her, her mouth working furiously. She spun and glared at Draco, silently accusing him.

Draco held up his hands. "As much as I wish I could take the credit for this…it wasn't me!" 

"Nope, it was me," Blaise appeared next to Hermione. "Remember Granger, no tantrums at the dinner table."

Harry started to laugh loudly, while Draco sniggered quietly. Hermione glared at them both.

"You know, I never realised just how useful a silencing spell could be," laughed Alena, while Hermione began to make your point across about just what she was going to do with them all in a minute if they didn't stop laughing, voice or no voice. "It'd make it damn-near impossible to cheat at Charades."

Hermione caught on, playing along. She folded her hands together and then flattened them back out.

"Book." giggled Alena, burying her face in her hands, laughing mirthlessly.

"Hogwarts, A History!" cried Harry through his fits of laughter, earning him a smack around the head. 

Draco, on the other hand, flinched, seeing something that the others hadn't as yet.

A sarcastic cough sounded behind the two Gryffindors and they both turned to see a fiercely angry Ronald Weasley.

"What, pray tell," the redhead ground out through clenched teeth. "Are you both doing? With _them_? _At the Slytherin table_?"

Hermione's face had fallen, but Harry simply shrugged, nonplussed. "Playing Charades."

Ron went from crimson, to volcanic red in three seconds flat. "_Playing Charades_! Have you gone completely _mad_?! he stared at them both, disbelievingly.

"No. I am perfectly sane, but thankyou for your concern, Ron." Harry stated coolly.

Ron's eyes went impossibly wide. "But…but…that's _Malfoy_, Harry!"

"Don't mind me Weasley, just continue to pretend I'm not here." Draco drawled, earning him a death glare that made a fly fall out of the air in front of his face. _I've heard of looks that could kill, but this is ridiculous_, smirked Inner-Draco.

"Don't worry, _I will_," sneered Ron, before turning his look of disgust back to Harry. "You mean to say that you would rather sit over here with a bunch of _Slytherins_," he spat it out like a dirty word. "And play _Charades_ than sit at your own table?"

"Actually, I only came over here to get my Potions assignment off Draco and we all just got chatting."

"Draco…chatting…_Draco_?! Since when do you call _Malfoy_, _Draco_?!" Ron spat is disbelief. 

Harry folded his arms and stared up at him defiantly. "Since about two minutes ago, when my so-called best friend decided to start behaving like a completely childish _prat_!"

Hermione's mouth was working furiously, talking so fast that Draco couldn't actually make out when she was saying. He got the general gist of it thought, still reeling from Harry using his given name.

"Me? Acting like a _prat_? What about you? You and Hermione have just completely shut me out."

Harry's temper built. "Now hold on a second. Hermione and I have been doing no such thing. You're the one who will insist on seeing things that just _aren't there_!"

"Don't lie to me Harry, it's obvious."

"I'm not lying to you goddamn it!" Harry's fist slammed into the table, making them all jump. "Best friends don't lie to each other. And what's more, how long ago did you decide to go _home for Christmas, huh_?"

Ron looked uncomfortable. "About a week."

"And you just forgot to mention it to me, is that it?" Draco could tell Harry was getting more and more worked up with every passing moment.

"You were in the hospital wing." Ron weakened.

"You could have visited. In fact, now that I think about it, you didn't visit me _once_ while I was in there!"

"I was busy…"

"With?"

"Homework." Ron was shrinking visibly.

"Oh, don't you dare give me that crap Ron, you know as well as I so that any excuse to get you out of homework will do. In fact, it occurs to _me_," Harry stood up slowly, glaring Ron down. "That you really don't give a crap about our friendship anymore."

"I don't give a crap? _I _don't give a _crap_?" Ron was firing up again. "You're the one who is keeping things from me. Sitting with _Slytherins_. You didn't tell me _anything _about your summer, or-"

He was suddenly cut off by Harry's low, angry voice.

"That's. Because. _You_. Never. _Asked_." Ron faltered, starting into the depths of Harry's livid face and blazing eyes.

"You want to know what happened to me over the summer, Ron? _Really want to know_?" his voice was deathly quiet, yet all around him, they could hear his every word. "I spend two months locked in my cupboard. I was having nightmares practically every night, and when I was awake I would have splitting headaches. I lived the night of the Third Task over and over again, but I think what was possibly worse was having to watch you, Hermione, Ginny, Siri…captured, tortured, killed."

Hermione had tears running down her cheeks. And still he continued. 

"I relieved my parents deaths, Cedric's death…the _Re-Birthing_, the duel. you name it…I ran through it a million times over in my mind. Over and over. So that's it, Ron. That was my summer. That's the thing I find hard talking about even now, that's why I'm so afraid to close my eyes at night, that's why I've been spending every second night in the Infirmary getting Dreamless Sleep Potion from Madam Pomfrey just so I could rest. But even the potions doesn't stop the visions from coming…and where have you been the last _four times_ I've woken in so much pain that I actually _lost my voice_ from screaming, where were you then?"

Alena's head was buried in her arms. And still he continued.

"I'll tell you where. You were tucked up, nice and safe in your comfortable sleep with your happy dreams and thinking that I had deserted you when nothing could have been further from the truth. _You_ deserted _me_…when I needed someone to understand me the most, when I needed someone who wouldn't just turn away. And that was precisely what _you did_. If you feel like we've shut you out, fine, but we are not solely to blame. You have done your best to ruin our friendship, mine and yours, Hermione's and mine, just because you're _jealous_."

Draco was trembling so hard he thought he heard his heart break. And still he continued.

"But you know what? I am this close to simply giving up on you, because I have tried everything that I can. _Everything_. And," Harry's voice faltered a little here. "I'm just sorry that it wasn't enough. I'm sorry that I waited this long for…actually, I'm not sure what I was waiting for. I think I was just waiting." He cast a blank look around at the Slytherin's, his eyes ending up fixed with Draco's, before turning back to Ron.

"You think I'm crazy for trying to make friends with a bunch of Slytherins, and maybe I am. But anything is better than fighting over feuds that no one remembers where they started from, anything is better than hatred and petty wars." He looked back to Draco. "Anything is better than facing the other down from the other side of the war zone when we were never really that different to begin with."

He turned to Ron again, whose face crumpled under the cold reality on Harry's face. "I'm sorry that I wasn't enough, Ron, _but I'm only human_…I only have so many hands to hold on to people. I'm sorry that I may have lost my grip on you sometime in the past and couldn't grab you back." His voice fell away bleakly. "I'm sorry."

Harry strode off, breaking into a half-run just before the hall doors, slamming out of them forcefully. Hermione looked beyond furious.

Blaise muttered the counter curse just loud enough for Hermione to hear it. She stepped forward, her hand meeting the side of Ron's face with a crack that echoed through the Great Hall like a whip. He stumbled backwards from the force of the blow, raising his hand reflexively to his cheek, open-mouthed.

"I hope you're bloody well satisfied Ronald Alan Weasley, because you didn't just manage to loose Harry's friendship today, you also just lost _mine_. Because I am sick to death of being treated like some prize to be fought over and won, some trophy at the end of your rainbow. I could no less date you than I could Harry…your friendships were worth too much to me to loose them to romance, and I thought until recently, that you felt the same. Obviously I was wrong, and I now stand corrected." 

Alena hurried out of her seat and around the table and as she passed Draco by, she whispered in his ear, "Find him." A second later, she was next to Hermione and beginning to guide her away. "Come on Hermione, let's go for a walk by the lake for a while, I think I'm in need of some fresh air, what about you?"

Hermione nodded weakly and allowed herself to be steered away gently by the black-haired girl. 

Draco allowed himself to look Weasley up and down in a very manner-of-fact way and sneered. "And they call _me_ the heartless bastard," He turned to Blaise. "Blaise, are you alright to finish on your own? I've just remembered something I need to do."

Blaise waved him away, and after shooting another glare at Ron, he walked proudly from the room. As soon as the doors of the Great Hall shut behind him, Draco broke into a full force run, his mind working overtime. _If I were an upset Potter, where would I go_?

He leapt up the stairs, ignoring the puzzled looks of students who passed him, and headed straight for the third floor. He found Harry hunched up on the windowsill on the third floor, looking like he was trying to hide from the world. Draco slowed to a walk at the sight of him and let the relief flood through him.

"Quite a little dramatic scene you put on there, Potter." Draco's voice held no malice, a hint of concern in its edges. He stood just behind Harry, leaning lightly on the wall next to the shrunken in sill.

Harry shrugged. "S'pose so."

"No, trust me, it was," Draco drummed his fingers against the stone. "We're not friends, Potter."

"I know that, Malfoy." 

"You can't save me, Potter."

"Wasn't trying to," Harry stared out the window blindly, training his eyes on the figures of Hermione and Alena far below him walking towards the lake. "But I think _you_ saved _me_."

Draco was dumbfounded. He folded himself up on the other half of the sill before he could crumple to the ground completely, Harry obediently tucking his legs under his own body, still looking out into the horizon.

"I'm sorry," the words were whispered, shadowed by the winds and tension. "For never letting myself see the real you. For not getting to know you at the beginning."

_I'm sorry too, Harry._

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

**Amy's Notes:**

You, know, just over eight thousand words in three days is not a pretty sight, especially when you have to find time to eat and sleep throughout. And considering I _hand wrote _most of this chapter (something that is very unusual for me to do) before typing it up - a considerable job in itself - I am absolutely _bloody_ exhausted.

On the upside: I'm dead happy with myself. Shadows!Draco is finally doing what he is being told to do…although Shadows!Harry is being hugely unexpected and not at all entirely in canon, but what can I say? Shadows!Ron deserved all that I threw at him in this chapter. This had more twists and turns in it that a roller-coaster and I'm not even sure where most of it came from, but I suppose that's the way it goes sometimes.

Huge emotional leaps and bounds, and while I started off writing this chapter in order to finish where the rain finished (with that insanely short part right near the middle) - the rest of it was vital in the developments of character, both Draco's and Harry's. Next Draco chapter should be a wizz-banger, so please stay tuned!

**Review Thankyou's (Very Longwinded Thankyou's):**

**Val Mora **- The end part of chapter 5 was both dream and reality…mostly reality, but I wrote it like it was a dream (just to throw you in a loop). I also think that you are the only one who bothers to read my notes (apart from Natasha), and as far as I can tell, neither of us are purposely changing our styles to suit the other. But there are subtle differences. - **JadeDragon **- We are trying to create completely separate POV's for Harry and Draco, one of the main reasons that I didn't want to write alone…this way, I only have to worry about what Draco is saying/thinking/feeling. - **Anne Pheonix **- I'm glad you liked chapter 3 - it's by far-and-away my favourite so far of the Draco chapters, with the next one coming up a close second, and probably the one that I am most proud of. - **JaneyLane - **Stay tuned, more shall be revealed! - **LanaMariah **- All shall be revealed about Harry's reasoning about not becoming a Prefect, we just had to let the story develop a bit first of all before we launched into anything else. - **Avalon Princess **- We're going as fast as we can! - **AkkiNeko **- Natasha will be pleased you like Shadows!Harry even if Shadows!Draco doesn't…yet. - **beautiful disaster **- The song was my partner-in-words creation…I am in awe of her. - **chrisseee667 **- We hope we'll be able to provide some scratches for those itches. – **bwaybaby79 **– Draco had become a newer, more softer Draco: bloody hell, I sound like a fabric softener ad, but you'll find out why later on. – **ILLK** – fixed chapter 6 (as you can see) – yes, we are nuts, completely nuts, and no one loves us, but we don't care much about that.  We are trying to develop the characters a lot more, so you'll see a side to both of them that isn't normally explored. – **Gilaine** – Yes, Natasha does like being mean to Shadows!Draco (she likes it all too well for my liking!) – **Lady of Werewolves** – Please stay tuned, things are coming, fast and furious!

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**Next Chapter:**

Harry re-evaluates his life and friendship with Ron, and comes to terms with fears for the future. Something else is revelled (another thing you won't expect). Tension is high in the fifth year Gryffindor dormroom, with explosions not only from the Weasley twins. More developments on the Hermione/Seamus front. Will we ever find out what Matilda is being so secretive about, and who is her mysterious cousin?

Please click the review button, your feedback is wonderful and we do oh-so-love it!


	8. Harry: Where Loyalties Lie

**The Spaces Between Shadow & Night**

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

**Chapter 7  
**_Where Loyalties Lie_

"Do you regret it?"

At Harry's question, Hermione looked up from the Arithmancy chart she had been compiling. She looked puzzled at first, but when she noticed where Harry's gaze was directed, she shook her head.

Ron was sat with his youngest sibling, Ginny and Dean Thomas on the far side of the Common Room. Dean was talking earnestly about something, and Ron was staring into space, not really paying much attention. Ginny, however, was paying rapt attention to the fifth year Prefect.

Hermione spoke. "The only thing I regret is not punching him when I had the chance. Failing that, my knee connecting with his groin would have been just as good."

Harry grinned at this, an expression that looked ever so slightly morbid on his pale and drawn face. "You scare me sometimes," he told her.

The bushy-haired witch shrugged. 

"I'm glad it happened," Harry told her, making her quirk her left eyebrow in interest. "I think I'd have felt more guilty if our friendship had just _faded_ away, d'you know what I mean?" Hermione nodded.

"Yeah. But, Harry, we're never going to have that friendship again. Even if Ron does ever talk to us, the relationship we had with him is gone. Forever."

Harry took another look at Ron, before bowing his head. "I know."

Hermione pursed her lips, then nodded, before returning to her Arithmancy.

~~ ~~~ ~~

"Get out of my way, you little brats!"

Harry felt like her was the only person who looked up when Matilda Thistlebury started screaming at the first years in the Gryffindor Common Room. Looking around he saw that her raised voice had only attracted the attention of a few lower school students.

Hermione was still engrossed in a thick book, and didn't seem to notice that particular interruption, though she did look up from her studies when there was a loud bang from the direction of the Weasley twins.

_Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, Harry realised. He had given them his prize money from the Tri Wizard Tournament to invest in their joke company, and it appeared that the twins were putting it to good use. Harry remembered telling them that everyone was going to need a good laugh what with Voldemort's return, and all.

"Can I borrow this?" Harry heard himself ask Dean Thomas, pointing at the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. Dean nodded, then went back to what looked like a complicated essay. On closer inspection, he wasn't writing, but drawing. It was a portrait of Seamus who was asleep in a nearby chair.

There wasn't even a mention of anything that could possibly related to the dark arts or Voldemort. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle at this. Something was wrong. Why wasn't anyone reporting on the Muggle killings?

He was still fretting over this at three o'clock in the morning. Eventually, Harry found himself getting out of bed and dressing, fumbling around in the darkness for his clothes. Careful not to trip over any of the mess in the dormitory, Harry made his way down to the Common Room. After reading a couple chapters of _Hogwarts, a History_, Harry didn't feel in the least bit tired and still kept thinking of Voldemort.

From what Harry could comprehend, there was only one solution. He needed to talk to someone.

Hermione was the obvious choice. She wasn't exactly a morning person either, but she listened, and that was what Harry needed now. Plus, she had, on occassion, called Voldemort by his proper name. Not wanting to be caught in the girls' dormitory, Harry collected his Invisibility Cloak before waking Hermione.

Standing outside the girls dormitory with 'Fifth Years' written on the door, Harry realised that he had never been in there, and therefore had no idea which was Hermione's bed. If the girls were anything like the boys Harry shared with, their curtains on their beds would be closed. _I'll just have to guess I suppose._

Luckily, it didn't take very long for Harry to identify Hermione's bed. The enormous pile of books surrounding it, and piled on the trunk that stood at the end of it, notified Harry that it did indeed belong to his friend.

So not to disturb the other girls (one of whom snored quite loudly, though Harry couldn't tell which), he pulled back the curtain on the bed. Thankfully it _was_ Hermione. She was sleeping on her side, facing Harry, a small smile playing on her lips. She looked... peaceful, unlike her troubled and world-weary waking self.

Harry shook her gently, whispering, "Wake up, Hermione."

Hermione squirmed, and rolled over, batting away Harry's arm. "Bugger off, Lavender. I don't care if Crookshanks ate your bloody face pack!" she muttered.

Harry snickered slightly at this, trying to imagine what happened. "It's Harry!" he hissed. Her eyes shot open and she sat up straight as though she had received an electric shock.

She glared sleepily at him. Harry realised that it must have been a shock being awakened by the dismembered head of your best friend. The cloak was rather suffocating, so Harry had pulled it so that it wasn't covering his head. 

"What are you doing here," she demanded in a low whisper.

"I need to talk to someone."

"Can't it wait?"

"It's about Voldemort."

There was a spark of interest in Hermione's tired eyes, and Harry saw her glance quickly at the clock that stood by her bed, then at Harry's serious face. "Fine. Shall we go for a walk?"

Harry nodded. "Sounds fine."

"Good, I'll get dressed." Hermione stared at him, an expectant look on her face. She looked at Harry as though he was an idiot, then rolled her eyes. "That was your cue to wait outside," she hinted.

"Oh, right," Harry realised, feeling himself blush furiously. He stood outside the dormitory and Hermione emerged a few minutes later, still tying her hair into two braids either side of her head. She was dressed in warm clothes; a pair of faded jeans and a plum-coloured polo neck jumper.

"Ready," she announced.

Harry wasn't sure if Hermione was doing it on purpose or not, but they found themselves walking slowly around the lake.

The sun was still about an hour away from coming up, and so they walked in near-darkness on the dewy grass. Harry breathed deeply, inhaling the morning air. Was it just him, or did the air always seem fresher in the morning.

_Then again, after spending the night in a dormitory with Dean's smelly socks, anywhere would seem fresh._

"So what did you want to talk about?" asked Hermione curiously.

"It's too quiet."

Hermione looked around. "I'd say it was 'pleasantly peaceful'." She looked at Harry, then continued. "But I'm guessing you didn't mean 'quiet' in the volume sense of the word." Harry shook his head.

"Why hasn't anyone noticed the things that Voldemort has done? I've seen Death Eaters kill Muggle families with magical offspring, yet they're never mentioned in the Daily Prophet." He asked this as though Hermione knew the answer.

"Maybe the Ministry is just biding its time," she suggested. "After all, our side is still trying to establish ourselves again."

"But wouldn't that make it the perfect time to strike? No opposition - the Ministry doesn't believe Dumbledore so no official action has been taken."

"He's been gone a long time, Harry," Hermione said. "He has scores to settle etc. His ranks aren't exactly bursting at the seams, either. Most of his Death Eaters are in jail or hold positions of importance. They can't just switch sides - people would start noticing."

"You think Voldemort's being subtle."

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose that's one way of putting it." She sighed loudly. "Harry, I don't know what you want me to tell you, but I can't tell you what's going to happen in the future, or how it's all going to turn out. I can only give you my opinion, and I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me." Hermione looked nervous at Harry's words, and she licked her lips with worry. She probably had reason to as well. Harry was still ill, that much was obvious, and there was a strange haunting look in his eyes that gave him the appearance of wisdom beyond his years. His voice had evidently returned to almost full strength, though it seemed deeper and more forceful than before.

But Harry didn't realise this.

As they walked, Hermione stared at the ground. "People are going to die," she said slowly. "People on his side are going to die. People on _our_ side are going to die. It's not going to be pretty. It's a war, Harry and not everyone is going to survive."

She smiled at Harry nervously, an odd expression for someone who had been talking of death and destruction just a moment before.

"Do you want to change the subject?" Harry asked.

"I don't mind, Harry. _You're _the one who wanted to talk about this Harry, and I feel like I'm the only one talking."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Harry grinned half-heartedly. "So how's your flirting going? Has Seamus realised that you like him yet?"

Her face reddened visibly in the dim morning light. She stared wide-eyed at Harry, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "How did you know it was Seamus?"

"I've seen you staring at him." She blushed even more, if that was possible. "I think he likes you," Harry added.

She stared open-mouthed at Harry, a panicked look in her eyes. "Harry... what did you say to him?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing much. I just asked what he thought of you."

"And?" Hermione sounded genuinely interested now, and Harry almost laughed at the expression on her face.

"He thought you like me! Honestly, Hermione, he doesn't believe for a second that you could like him."

"So he _does_ like me!" She was practically skipping now. "Yes!" She punched the air, then seemed to realise what she was doing, and blushed. "Erm... I'm hungry. Do you want to get some breakfast?"

Harry checked his watch. "They don't start serving breakfast for another hour or so."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, are you being thick on purpose? We can go to the kitchens." She proceeded to drag him to the Hogwarts kitchen where the House Elves greeted them happily, and proceeded to serve them with more food than Harry though he would be able to eat in a day.

"What happened to SPEW?" he questioned as Hermione started on a owl of museli. She didn't even bother to correct him.

Instead she merely gave a slight shrug. "Harry, I have better things to do with my time than stand of House Elf rights. Like OWL's. Maybe next year I'll have another go."

That led the conversation onto their end of year exams. And anything else they could think of. Except Ron. That was the taboo subject. Neither even mentioned his name, not even in connection with the Weasley twins (Harry admitted to Hermione what he had done with his prize money. To his surprise, she was supportive of his decision).

~~ ~~~ ~~

Quidditch practice was held later that day. The pitch was completely waterlogged from the recent downpour, but luckily with Quidditch, the state of the pitch wasn't all that important as they game was played in the air.

"Nice of you to join us, Harry," Matilda said curtly, as Harry joined his teammates. Angelina was nowhere to be seen.

"Right, Angelina is in the Hospital Wing, so she's asked me to supervise this practice," Matilda announced.

"Why?" Harry head Seamus asked. Matilda gave the sandy-haired boy a scathing look.

"Someone," she explained, staring at Fred and George, "put a very strong itching powder in all of her clothes." The twins tried to look innocent, and Harry even saw George twiddle his thumbs as Fred looked towards the sky.

Matilda narrowed her eyes. "Right, you lot! Get up in the air and show me what you can do." There was a silence between the team. "That means _now_!" she ordered.

There was a flurry of activity as the Gryffindor Quidditch team clambered onto their brooms and rose into the air as Matilda released the balls.

After about half an hour of practice, Matilda called them back to the ground. She slowly walked around them, stopping behind the twins. "You two were really pathetic."

"We're tired!" protested Fred. "Going through Angelina's clothes is exhausting!"

"Especially her underwear," added George with a slight snigger. Matilda on the other hand didn't find it very funny. With a swift movement of her Cleansweep 7, she hit George in the back of the knees, and he fell to the ground, yelping in pain.

If Angelina had been cold hearted at practice, then Matilda had a heart of stone. It was nearly three hours before she called practice to a close, and by then the team was practically falling asleep in the air. Alicia and Katie were leaning on each other for support as they staggered back to the changing rooms, and Seamus couldn't stop yawning.

Harry decided to confront Matilda about her attitude.

"Why are you such a bitch?" he asked. His words surprised even him. Matilda laughed harshly.

"To understand that, Harry, you'd have to understand my life story."

"Try me."

She pursed her lips, brushing a lock of auburn hair from her face. "Fine. I live with my parents in Sussex. I'm the youngest of five and my favourite colours are green and purple. But that's beside the point. I started playing Quidditch in my second year of Hogwarts because I had an enormous crush on Oliver Wood."

Harry sniggered slightly at this, but Matilda ignored him.

"I was good, too. I was made a reserve and I became the Captain of the reserve team in my third year. I wanted to become a professional player until I discovered that I had terminal cancer."

Harry blinked. For once he wished that his voice would go again. He didn't know what to say. What _could_ he say? This wasn't something that someone told you everyday, so how were you supposed to react?

Matilda surveyed Harry from beneath hooded eyes. Harry realised then that what he had thought to be a constant look of anger was in fact exhaustion. She looked older than her seventeen years for a moment for grinning at Harry wryly.

"Don't worry, mate. It's no secret, just don't go mouthing off about it, right?"

Harry nodded mutely, and she didn't give him a chance to reply before heading off towards the changing rooms.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Hermione eyed Harry cautiously, following his line of vision. "I guess she told you, then," she whispered, nodding in the direction of Matilda Thistlebury, where the seventh year was lying on a nearby bed, her eyes closed. She had already been in the Hospital Wing when Harry had arrived down there, and was asleep.

Harry raised a curious eyebrow. "You knew?"

"I asked her if something was wrong last year. She broke down in tears." She paused, biting her lip. "She was about to kill herself." Harry felt his eyes widen even more at this. He cast Matilda a quick glance.

Beside him, Hermione tugged her hair out of the braid that had restricted her hair during the day. "I'm betting she didn't tell you that."

"I don't know what to do around her," Harry admitted. "I mean, do I mention it, or ignore it or what?"

It seemed that Hermione wasn't entirely sure how to advise him on this. "Hmm. I think you'll know what to say when the time comes." She yawned loudly. "I'd better get back to the tower. I'm exhausted. _Someone_ woke me up very early this morning." She looked pointedly at Harry, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Hermione grinned, then kissed Harry on the cheek. "G'night, Harry."

"G'night, Hermi."

Hermione left quietly so as to not wake any of the other patients.

Harry rested his head against the pillows, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to bring his potion to him.

"She's right, y'know."

Matilda was now lying on her side, staring at Harry, her brown eyes void of any emotion. "I _did_ try to kill myself." In a quieter one, she added, "It wasn't the first time, either." There was an uneasy silence, before Matilda said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How much to do remember? I mean, about the night you... got your scar."

Harry swallowed. He hadn't really told anyone about this apart from a few select friends. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to share something as personal as those memories with someone he barely knew, but he found himself explained what he remembered.

"Just... flashes. Little pieces. It's like a jigsaw with some of the pieces missing. Why?"

The auburn-haired witch was silent for a moment. "It was raining. At least, it was where I was. It was my birthday, Halloween. We had a big party, a real family affair. And when my family do things, it's always big. At about eleven o'clock owls started flocking in." She smiled. "They were everywhere. At first I remember my dad fretting about the mess they'd made. Then the news broke."

Harry didn't have to ask what news she was on about, but she elaborated anyway as Harry swallowed the potion that Madam Pomfrey had laid wordlessly beside his bed.

"Lily and James Potter were dead. But little baby Harry was alive. And somehow, no one was quite sure how; Voldemort had been defeated when he had tried to kill you. I didn't really understand, so I asked my mum why she was crying. She told me that it was because she was very happy; a bad, bad man was gone and we were going to be safe. Then I asked my cousin why he was crying and he said it was because two of his best friends had died."

Harry felt something catch in his throat.

"No-one slept that night, except probably me. The most memorable thing though, was just after midnight. All the adults gathered in one room and raised their glasses to 'Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived'."

"You said your cousin lost two of his best friends," asked Harry after a moment, allowing this to sink in, and she nodded. "What's his name?"

Matilda gave Harry a look; it was as though she was looking into his soul, to see if he were worthy of this information. She must have decided he was, because she finally said, just before Harry slipped into a dreamless sleep, "Sirius Black."

~~ ~~~ ~~

In Potions, Harry and Draco (sorry, _Malfoy_) seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement. They were to communicate as little as possible unless there was an emergency. It seemed to be working pretty well for them both, as well. Less talking meant less insults, and in turn, less hurt feelings.

That was until Harry, who had been quietly working on the essay part of the project for Snape, heard a spell being cast.

In any other lesson, this wouldn't have been a problem, but this was _Potions_. The only spells that were ever cast were those to light and extinguish the fires used to heat cauldrons. The spell that Harry heard was most definitely _not_ a fire spell, though.

"_Serverum Haare_."

Harry looked up, turning his head in the direction of the voice. It seemed to have come from the direction where Hermione was sat working with Alena. The two appeared to be discreetly passing notes to each other while working on their assignment, an invisibility potion.

It wasn't either of them that had spoken those two words, though. The voice had been male, which meant it was probably one of the two Slytherins behind Hermione and Alena.

Seeing as Blaise obviously wasn't male, Harry deduced that it had to be Goyle, whom she had been paired with.

Harry wrote the spell on a piece of parchment. "What does it do?" he asked Malfoy in a low voice, so as to not attract any unwelcome attention from Snape.

Malfoy studied the spell, then looked up at Harry. In a similar tone of voice, he said, "It's a hair cutting spell." He glanced at Harry's unruly hair, which was now at the longest it had ever been and would very soon need some sort of restraint. "But then again, I doubt if you or Granger would know how to use it."

His partner turned his attention back to the daisy roots he was cutting as Harry pondered this. _Why would Goyle use a spell like that in Potions?_ The potion the class was working on did not require human hair, so there was no use for it.

_"But then again, I doubt if you or Granger would know how to use it."_ Malfoy's words echoed around Harry's head. 

Granger. _Hermione._

Harry turned quickly towards Hermione. Hermione had a puzzled look on her ace. Cautiously she reached up to touch her hair. To her immense shock, she bought back a clump of her ponytail. She let out an unwilling shriek of horror, staring in distress at the hair that she held in her hand.

Alena's face was one of pure horror, and she was biting her lip. She looked quite pale, actually. Harry distinctly heard the Slytherin girl mutter several words that would probably have earned her a detention had any professor heard.

Snape strode quickly over to Hermione and Alena's desk. "What is the problem, Miss Granger?" He looked, if it were possible, absolutely delighted with her distress. Behind them, Harry could see Blaise and Goyle sniggering.

"M-my hair," Hermione managed to choke.

"I'd say it was an improvement," Snape sneered in his usual slimy way.

Hermione wasn't the only one who was shocked by this; Alena looked absolutely appalled and stared after Hermione as the Gryffindor fled the dungeon, tears building in her eyes. The black-haired girl cast Snape an evil glare before gathering her and Hermione's belongs and running out of the classroom after her.

  
"Where are you going, Miss Rhyson?"

"To see if she's all right!" Alena retorted over her shoulder, not even bothering to look at Snape. There was a commotion among the students as they all began whispering furiously about how a _Slytherin_ was going to help a _Gryffindor_.

Harry noticed that Ron staring at Harry, a look on his face that told Harry he clearly blamed Harry for Alena's behaviour, even though Harry had nothing to do with it. Harry was just as shocked by this occurrence as everyone else.

"The next person to speak will be in detention for a month!" thundered Snape, a murderous look in his eyes.

Instantly, a hush fell over the classroom as students continued with their work, an occasional glance sent in the direction of either the desk where Hermione and Alena had been sat or where Harry and Draco were working.

A piece of parchment found its way onto Harry's work. It was the same piece that Harry had written the spell on, only now it had Draco's unmistakable handwriting on it.

_Damn. Why do I keep thinking of him as Draco?_

Harry read the parchment, then looked at Malfoy who sent him what could only be described as a reassuring smile. Then again, Harry had never seen Malfoy with a genuine smile on his face, so he couldn't be sure.

_She's in good hands. Don't worry about her, Alena will take care of her._

For probably the first time ever, Harry believed him.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Harry was in the Gryffindor Common Room studying for Herbology when he next saw Hermione. She had been absent from the Gryffindor table at lunch (so had Alena, Harry had noticed), and after lunch Harry had been in Divination.

When she stepped through the portrait hole, Harry hardly recognised her. Her hair, which had reached midway down her back, was now cut to just above her shoulders and seemed slightly more curly than frizzy.

She spotted Harry and headed over in his direction, trying to ignore the whispers that were clearly about her. Hermione sank into a chair next to Harry, a scowl across her face. "Don't say anything," she warned.

"It looks nice," Harry tried to reassure her.

Hermione still wasn't convinced, and continued to pull a heavy book out of her bag. Her bag must have been enchanted, because the book was much too big to have fitted in there as well as the other books Hermione carried around.

Seeing as she obviously didn't want to talk, Harry continued reading his book. It was a chapter on Mandrakes. Professor Sprout, the Herbology professor and Head of Hufflepuff house, kept hinting that mandrakes were going to come up on their OWL's. Even though OWL's were months away, Harry had already started revising. It would mean less work just before the exams.

The click of a camera made Harry look up. Colin Creevey, a fourth year Gryffindor who seemed to have a camera permanently attached to his face, was staring at Harry, his camera in his hands. He took another picture of Harry and Hermione.

Hermione frowned. "What are you doing, Colin?" she asked evenly.

Colin lowered his camera. "Taking some pictures. Some Ravenclaws want to make a school newspaper and they've asked me to be the photographer," he explained.

"Why are you taking pictures of us?" asked Harry.

"Well, you're Hogwarts best known couple." Colin said this as if it were obvious.

"We're not a couple," Harry and Hermione said simultaneously.

"Honestly, Colin, me and Harry have no romantic feelings for each other," continued Hermione, looking to Harry for support. Harry nodded in agreement.

_Hermione and me? That would be_ strange.

The younger boy didn't look convinced. "Prove it," he challenged. The two fifth years looked at each other helplessly. How on earth were they supposed to prove something like that?

Hermione stood up, a determined look on her face. "Right, I will." She strode purposely over to where the other fifth years were sat. Before Harry could say anything, she had straddled Seamus's lap and was kissing him. Seamus was shocked, but then clearly began to enjoy it.

There was a cheer from the other students, and Harry could hear Colin's voice saying, "Harry, Harry! Harry!"

He closed his eyes. This was giving him a headache. "Harry!" Colin wasn't giving up. When Harry opened his eyes, everything was back to normal. Colin was indeed standing in front of him, but his camera had its lens cover securely in place. Hermione was still sat next to him, her book across her lap and a puzzled look on her face.

"I think you fell asleep," she told him.

"I really hope so," Harry muttered.

~~ ~~~ ~~

It appeared that Matilda's gruesome training sessions really paid off. Angelina Johnson had been confined to the Hospital Wing on several more occasions since the itching powder incident because of other Weasley-twin related incidents. Because of this, Matilda had taken over quite a few Gryffindor practices.

They won their first match against Hufflepuff in just a couple of hours. The final score was 370 - 40. Hufflepuff's new Seeker seemed to be having a tough time filling Cedric Diggory's shoes. She was a petite girl in her third year, and while Harry openly admitted that she was a good player, she was incredibly nervous. But, that was to be expected. Not only was it her first match, but the player she had replaced had died the previous year.

Cedric had been killed by Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore had made no secret of this, and the entire student body knew. The somber attitude of the Hufflepuff's showed that they still mourned him, whether they had known him well or not.

The match had been _fun_. Without a real challenge from the opposing Seeker, Harry had been able to relax considerably. Lee Jordan, a friend of the twins, was commentating as usual. His quick-witted comments and obvious admiration of Harry's Firebolt (still the best broom on the market) had provided a very pleasant atmosphere.

This pleasant atmosphere was in no way mirrored in the dormitory of the fifth year boys in the Gryffindor tower.

The atmosphere between Harry and Ron was frosty to say the least, and the other three boys all had their own agendas:

Seamus had openly declared his support for Harry (though Harry suspected that this had more to do with Hermione than himself), making him Ron's 'enemy'.

Seeing that Seamus wasn't going to be on his side, Ron had pestered Dean and Neville to swap beds with him, not wanting to be next to Harry. Dean had told Ron that, while he thought Ron was partly right, he wasn't going to give up his bed for anyone or anything. He said that this was because it was right next to the window and he got too hot at night.

Neville on the other hand had completely refused. This had surprised Harry as well as Ron as Neville wasn't known for being so assertive. He wasn't taking sides, and had told both of them that.

The situation was the same with the Weasley's who were at Hogwarts. Ron and Ginny openly refused to acknowledge Harry and did their best to stay away from him and Hermione. The twins were on Harry's side. They had even offered to use some of their products on Ron (Harry had turned down this offer. He wasn't into the revenge thing). Bill was the objective one, staying out of the argument altogether.

Harry could even feel the tension in his dormitory at night when the others were asleep. This was why he was glad of his midnight walks.

"Why did she do it?"

Malfoy was silent as the two fifth years prowled along the Charms corridor. After a moment he spoke. "Alena is... _different_ than other Slytherins. She refuses to believe in the stereotypes of the other houses."

"Then why are you friends with her?"

"Because it's refreshing, for lack of a better word. I've spent my entire life hearing the same old rants about Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws - it's good to hear someone else's opinions." He paused slightly. "Did you know she's the only Slytherin who can get away with calling you by your given name?"

"Why's that?"

"Because she's Alena," was Malfoy's reply to this. "She has a way of making people see things differently. Anyway, you admitted yourself that you were almost put in Slytherin."

Harry frowned. "But I chose to be in Gryffindor. Shouldn't that make me the enemy?"

"Our choices make us who we are, I suppose."

The Gryffindor had a strange feeling of dejá vu - hadn't someone said something like that to him before?

Malfoy continued as they rounded a corner. "Alena brought up a good point, too. If Granger wasn't a Muggleborn she'd be a perfect Slytherin."

Harry raised a dark eyebrow at this. "How so?"

"She's powerful, ambitious, intelligent, cunning," he hesitated slightly, "ruthless."

For a moment Harry was a little amazed at this. Hermione as a Slytherin? Then he saw Hermione as the Slytherin's must have seen her; a force to be reckoned with. He could see the truth in Malfoy's words.

"Don't tell anyone I complimented the Mudblood, especially her," Malfoy warned, the coldness returning to his voice.

"Because it would ruin your reputation?"

"No, because she'd gloat."

~~ ~~~ ~~

Looking around the Great Hall, Harry said, "This is how Hogwarts should be all the time." The Great Hall was practically devoid of life, even though it was breakfast. It was the first day of the Christmas holidays, and very few people had remained at Hogwarts.

Himself and Hermione were the only Gryffindors who had stayed; there were half a dozen Hufflepuffs, about ten Ravenclaws and just two Slytherins - Malfoy and Alena.

Hermione looked up from her copy of the Daily Prophet and nodded. "It's nice, isn't it?"

The post owls arrived in the Great Hall and there were considerably less of them than there were normally. One landed in front of Harry and Hermione, carrying a large parcel and a letter. The letter was addressed to both of them.

"I think it's from Mrs Weasley," Hermione said, examining the envelope.

"Why would she be writing to us?" asked Harry with a slight scowl. Hermione shrugged. She was as much in the dark about this as he was.

Opening the envelope carefully, Hermione quickly read the letter. Her face darkened into a scowl. "It _is_ from Mrs Weasley." She cleared her throat and began to read.

_Dear Harry and Hermione,_

_I was dreadfully disappointed when Ron told me that you didn't want to spend Christmas with us. You would have enjoyed it a lot and we would have treated you just like members of the family. I suppose it was your choice and if you want to be alone together, I accept that._

_I have enclosed your Christmas presents in the parcel and hope you like them._

_Merry Christmas!_

_Molly and Arthur Weasley._

"Looks like we were invited to spend Christmas with the Weasleys," she said, folding up the letter.

"I don't think dear old Ron has the heart to tell his mother we're not friends," Harry commented dryly.

"She'd be heartbroken," Hermione said. She quickly had another look at the letter. "Seems like she thinks we're a couple as well."

  
"I wonder what he's been telling her?" Harry asked. He sighed, then glanced at the parcel that held their Christmas presents from the Weasleys. "Do we open it or send it back?"

Hermione considered this for a moment. "Open it," she declared. "We're not friends with Ron. That does not include his parents."

He could see her point. Ron and Ginny were the only ones who had fallen out with Hermione and himself. That didn't go for the rest of the Weasley's.

The parcel contained two Weasley jumpers (red for Harry, deep purple for Hermione) and a box of fudge.

"We should write a thank you note," said Hermione, staring at her new jumper. Harry nodded his agreement.

"Should we tell her about the situation with Ron?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nah. That's Ron's duty."

~~ ~~~ ~~

Silence. Harry thought he was going to enjoy having the dorm room to himself for a couple of weeks. This was apparently not going to be the case.

It was strangely quite without Neville's light snores, the sound of Dean constantly moving and the heavy breathing from Seamus's bed that showed he was still alive. When Seamus was asleep, nothing could wake him short of blowing a trumpet in his ear.

Harry couldn't sleep. Checking his watch, he saw it was a little after ten. He had gone to bed at half past nine, telling Hermione that he was tired. He had been tired, but now he was as wide awake as ever.

Eventually Harry _did_ managed to doze off. It wasn't a peaceful sleep, however.

_The room was tastefully decorated, and obviously Muggle, as attested by the presence of a computer and a television. These weren't things you normally found in Wizarding homes - Muggle devices that ran on electricity tended to malfunction in places where a lot of magic was used._

_It was a bedroom. Two adults were asleep in the king-sized bed, and a young baby was asleep in a cot. The baby was about three or four months old, and had a shock of bright red hair. Harry would have mistaken it for a Weasley if he hadn't known any better._

_The door slammed open. It wasn't another child though; it was three grown men. The adults were awake instantly, the man trying to protect his wife._

_"Who are you?" he demanded._

_His reply was the Killing Curse, aimed at him by none other than Voldemort. The woman screamed, the sound making Harry's scar burn. "No!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. One of the men the baby out of it's crib, his silver hand glinting in the dim light. "Benjamin!"_

_Wormtail._

_Voldemort looked at the baby, ignoring the mother's pleas. "Crucio."_

_There was an anguished cry from both mother and child as the baby died in Wormtail's arms. It was placed back in its cot and the mother picked up a lamp from beside her bed, throwing it in the direction of the Death Eaters._

_She wasn't alive much longer._

_"Harry! Harry Potter!"_

_Harry could hear one of the Death Eaters calling his name. "Harry! Harry!" But how did they know he was there? "Harry Potter!"_

_Listening more carefully, Harry could tell it was a female voice. _

Hermione.

Harry's eyes snapped open. His pillow was damp beneath his head. Hermione was kneeling beside his bed, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Harry!" she cried. 

"What happened?" gasped Harry, trying to sit up.

Hermione could barely answer him. "You were screaming," she managed to choke out. "And, and I came in here and you just kept screaming and I couldn't wake you." She was trembling. "I was calling your name and you wouldn't wake up! Oh, Harry! I was so worried."

"He killed a baby," Harry whispered. Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with a shaking hand. She shook her head as though she couldn't believe it. "I think the baby was a Muggleborn," Harry continued. "It was called Benjamin."

"D-do you want t-to see Dumbledore?" Hermione stuttered, clearly in shock about this terrible event.

Harry nodded. He had to report this.

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

**Natasha's Notes:**

I've finally managed to finish this chapter - I suffered from a nasty bout of writers' block about halfway through this chapter and I got completely stuck. Luckily I managed to come up with a few ideas of my own and Amy helped out too. Unfortunately Hermione didn't get to hit anyone in this chapter. Ah well, maybe next Harry chapter she will! :) Please review - me and Amy love hearing what you have to say about _Shadows._

**Review Thankyou's:**

Lady of Werewolves - Gilaine - ILLK - Val Mora - JadeDragon - Anne Phoenix - JaneyLane - LanaMariah - Avalon Princess - AkkiNeko - beautiful disaster - james - chresseee667 - rainy_days - bwaybaby79 – Dayna – k – Kouji – K i w i (we had to have some serious Ron bashing somewhere, it all becomes clearer later on) – Ishuca - elspethdixon20686 - AriaThea

A huge thanks to the yahoo groups: 'Veela Inc' and 'Draco and Harry' for their unmitigated support.

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**Next Chapter:**

Some rather (ehem!) interesting gifts are given. Padfoot and Moony make a visit, with unexpected results. Professor McGonagall has a rather large bone to pick. Draco starts to realise that sometimes things do not always go as planned. A harmless letter is turned into some incriminating evidence. A party is organised, which later falls apart. Feelings start playing chaos with the future and sometimes the consequences of innocent actions can turn a world upside down, with a disastrous outcome.

We do take Anonymous reviews…so hit the button! Please (we know you want to)! We love hearing your thoughts and comments.


	9. Draco: Fear Is Given A Name

****

The Spaces Between Shadow & Night

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

****

Chapter 8  
_Fear Is Given A Name_

Christmas slipped up on Draco while he was unawares. One minute is was Halloween and all that it revelled; next minute the Professors were prepping the classes ready for mid-term exams and Hagrid was bringing in the Christmas trees.

Snow fell, covering Hogwarts in powdered bliss; the Forbidden Forest bared as nature kicked the clothes off, bare and pure in the cold winter air. If any students had bothered to cast their eyes out the windows overlooking the lake just past midnight, they would have seen two figures lapping the lake, shrouded in darkness, in perfect harmony.

Draco enjoyed the silence with Harry is step with him. With Harry there were no reasons to fill the silences that lay between them as they walked, aimlessly in the middle of the night. With Harry there were no expectations, no fears of what could be conceived from their unlikely alliance.

Draco was surprised that his father had not contacted him yet, had not heard about his friendship with Harry and turned up; to yell, to scream, to lash out with anger, threats, empty words; but nothing came. Draco was disappointed. Right now, he felt like he could take on Voldemort himself, he was so high off this…whatever this was with Harry.

He felt powerful, exhilarated…amazed.

What with their midnight walks, many classes together, and even the odd study session together thanks to their combined mid-term Potions assignment, Harry and Draco were on quite reasonable terms. Any personal subjects were strictly off limits; Harry never quizzed Draco on his obviously extensive Dark Arts knowledge and why he never spoke of his family; Draco never pressed Harry on his childhood, his cupboard and the contents of his near constant nightmares.

They were not the only ones forming new friendships either. Hermione and Alena were becoming closer with each passing week, and Harry had speculated to Draco that maybe this was because Hermione didn't have many girlfriends. She had always been in the company of him and Ron, with her two roommates, Parvati and Lavender, shutting her out of girlie things. And with Ginny's new reluctance at any kind of friendship with the pair that she felt betrayed by because of their new choice of company, Hermione turned to Alena, and found a welcome friend.

Blaise was still on the scene, of course, but with distracted attention. This was all caused by a Sixth Year Ravenclaw by the name of Luke Stevens, who she had been swooning over for the past month. The last Draco saw of Blaise was the back of her head on the Hogwarts Express, snogging the Ravenclaw passionately, and it seemed, not coming up for air any time soon.

But the four remaining were becoming, although Draco would never publicly admit it, fast friends. They would all sit together in the classes they shared, with Seamus for company as well often enough, laughing and chatting, earning glances of curiosity from all the other houses, and even stranger looks from the Professors. Professor McGonagall, strangely enough, was the one most set against the blossoming friendship between one of her favourites and the blonde Slytherin, especially when Harry and Draco had started sniggering helplessly in the middle of one of her talks and were unable to stop for quite some time. She had held them back after this incident, and given them a stern lecture about respect, quality listening skills and the importance of her class.

When she had finally let them go they had collapsed into laughter again, running the entire way to Potions to try and beat Snape there. They just managed it, slipping into their respective seats across the aisle from the girls just before he bellowed in, both flushed and panting from the run there. This had set off furious rumours about the 'true' nature of their relationship, with the four of them chalking some of the more outrageous ones up on their private list of 'Funniest Rumours Involving Us So Far'. Some of the others included Harry, Hermione and Draco having a wild and illicit 'threesome' in an abandoned classroom; Harry dying of an incurable disease; Alena's plot to seduce Harry right from under Hermione's nose; and Draco's apparently confirmed fetish for leather pants, silk sheets and furry handcuffs.

Draco had scoffed at this, his head behind a book in the library with Harry sniggering next to him. He declared solemnly that he had never owned a pair of leather pants, had never known you could get such a thing as furry handcuffs; although he did own up to having several sets of silk sheets, on his bed at Malfoy Manor.

Harry had called him a poncy git, Draco had thrown a book at his head, Madam Pince threw them both out of the library for disturbing the quiet and reckless use of school property. They had ended up in the kitchens, talking to Dobby and stuffing themselves stupid with food and rich laughter.

But now it was Christmas, and Draco had slept luxuriously late on the second day, after spending most of the day before sprawled out on the Slytherin rug spread out in front of the fire, pawing his way through catalogues and Owl Order forms for gifts. This was one of his least favourite ways of shopping, preferring to scour the shops like a panther, hunting out that all illusive 'perfect gift'. 

He'd already chosen his fathers, a new silver goblet with the family logo etched on it. It was classic, expensive, tasteful and utterly impersonal. His mother, Blaise and Alena were totally different kettles of fish though. He had been caught between a kimono, with a delicate silver butterfly pattern all over it, for Alena, and a bottle of vanilla perfume for Blaise when he had landed on the book section of his latest catalogue. It was there that he had seen it.

A slow, steady smile had crept across his face.

__

Perfect. 

~~ ~~~ ~~

"Draco! Hurry Up!"

Draco's answer was lost in the thick material of his thick green sweater, and then he heard the hurried footsteps and seconds later, Alena flung open Draco's dormroom. "Come on!"

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Draco yanked on his thick winter coat and Slytherin stripped scarf and turned. "There," he spread his arms impatiently to the girl. "I'm ready. Let's go!"

"_Finally_," growled Alena. "Harry and Hermione would have started without us!"

It was Christmas Eve, and a fresh batch of snow had fallen though the night, leaving the whole world frosted and cool-breezed. Even the Forbidden Forest looked different; its haunting bare branches and black trunks were clumped with snow and icicles.

The two Slytherin clattered down the stairs and ran through the halls. They flung themselves out into the cool sunshine and thick snow, and Draco's face stung with the intensity of going from the warmth inside out into the brisk snow-covered outside world. He didn't even see the snowball coming.

__

Splat!

Alena dissolved into giggles at the frozen look on his face. Draco wiped a gloved hand across most of his face, and opened iced eyelashes to see Harry, doubled over with laughter, Hermione poking her head out from behind a tree. Draco was instantly kneeling and scooping up the snow and moulding it into a snowball, all while striding towards Harry.

"You're so going to pay for that, Potter!"

The snowballs flew thick and fast for the next half an hour, with all involved switching teams. It started off house-against-house, moved to a free-for-all everyone-for-themselves, then ended up, when the law of natural rivalries intervened, girls-against-boys. Which Draco thought was distinctly unfair, although he would never admit as much, as what Hermione lost in precision of aim, she made up for with her fierce enthusiasm; and Alena had a killer shot that could knock you senseless for at least a minute. Harry and Draco were back-to-back as they desperately tried to fend off the approaching War-Women when there was a series of loud barks, making them all turn.

A very large, very black dog was flying towards them across the snow, barking. Draco quickly recognised it as Snuffles, Lupin's dog that he had seen at the station. Harry confirmed this very quickly.

"Snuffles!" He dropped down onto one knee and soon had his arms full of shaggy doggy fur, a wriggling bundle of energy.

A mad scuffle ensued between Harry and the dog, ending up with Harry flat on his back in the snow, having his face licked enthusiastically, until Hermione tugged him off and gave him a scratch behind the ears.

"Cute dog," laughed Alena, catching the dogs attention for the first time.

He barked once, showing off in the presence of a pretty girl, tail waging, before catching sight of Draco. The reaction was instantaneous. A low, threatening growl started up, showing of canine incisors and fanged gums. Snapping and snarling, the hair seemed to be standing up on his back, causing Draco to back away, faintly alarmed.

"Snuffles! Hey, it's okay! It's just Draco," Harry spoke directly to the dog, holding him back just in case he suddenly launched himself at Draco. The dog wined at Harry, cocking his head slightly to one side. "You don't need to protect me."

The dog lessened his growls slightly, but the rippling mouth gave Draco the distinct impression that he had better not get too close to the shaggy creature. He dropped the snowball back onto the ground and scuffed with his toe, sending up a little dusting of loose wetness across the bottom of his cloak. _Time to retreat, Draco old boy_, Inner-Draco advised sharply.

"Hey, Alena," He turned to his friend, his eyes speaking in volumes. "How about some hot chocolate?"

"Now you're speaking my language!" cried the black-haired girl, rubbing her hands together in an effort to try and keep them warm. "Hermione? Harry? Are you coming in?"

The two Gryffindors looked at each other cautiously, before Hermione found a subtle reply. "We'll follow you in."

Alena nodded and fell into step beside Draco. They were almost to the door of the school when Alena obviously felt that enough distance had been put between them to strike up conversation again. "The package arrived this morning."

Draco turned to her, his grey eyes looking warm against the backdrop of winter. "Really? And everything set?"

"Yes," Alena inclined her head back towards the pair behind them as Draco held the door open for her. She mock bowed, giggling. "Why, thank you kind Sir!" Still smiling. "He's going to love it."

"Yes, he is," smiled Draco, genuinely. His eyes lit up quietly. "Race you!"

As Draco sprinted off, he heard Alena's squawk of indignation, before hearing her light and agile footsteps chase after his gleaming blonde hair as it splashed out behind him, the light from lanterns adorning the walls spilling out over him and making it dance more than usual.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Draco wandered back through the halls alone, some half an hour later, when he wondered where the Gryffindors had gotten. Alena had walked back to the dormitories alone, saying something about presents to wrap, smiling angelically.

He picked up his ears at the sound of Hermione's voice, distinctly coming from an empty classroom. He heard the sharp tone of her voice and flattened himself against the wall, sliding his way next to the door, straining to hear their voices from within.

"…I don't think we should tell them, Harry," Hermione sounded strained. "It's too great a risk."

"Why not?" argued Harry. "You think Alena's trustworthy, don't you?"

"Of course! But I still don't think we should tell them!"

Harry sighed deeply. "This is because of Draco isn't it? That's why you don't think they should know."

Draco raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to hear Hermione's answer. "Among other things."

"I trust him, Hermione. You said only a couple of weeks ago that he had changed, and I trust him."

"I don't disagree with you, okay Harry? But it really isn't our decision to make. It is simply not our call to make. Dumbledore wants us to keep it as close to ourselves as possible, and I just don't think it would be wise to tell either Draco _or_ Alena."

"Ron knows. Have you thought about that recently? About the damage he could do if he was angry enough?"

"He would never-"

"Would you bet on it, Hermi? Would you stake your life on it? Because I trust _Draco Malfoy_ more than I trust the one person who I counted as my best friend, aside from you."

Hermione sighed. "No, I honestly hadn't thought about that, but it's still not our decision to make. Look, we'll talk to Dumbledore about it later, but for now lets not fight about this, and just enjoy the rest of the day, okay?"

Draco never heard Harry's reply because of the echoing sound of feet coming up one of the adjoining passageways. Quickly considering his options, he turned and strode back the way he came, towards the Slytherin commonroom.

But unfortunately, he had not been quick enough. "Mister Malfoy, a word with you if you please!"

__

McGonagall.

Draco turned at the last possible moment to face the stern Deputy Headmistress, rearranging his face into politeness. "Professor?"

"Walk with me a minute, Mister Malfoy," Draco glided into step with the thin Professor, thankfully leading away from the classroom where Harry and Hermione were talking. He was barely paying attention to Professor McGonagall, which was why her next question completely startled him. "I wish to discuss your motives towards Mister Potter."

"Motives, Professor?" Draco was surprised. He did not like the feeling.

"Motives, Mister Malfoy. What do you hope to achieve with this frankly transparent friendship?" Professor McGonagall never once looked at Draco, just kept walking.

Draco's eyebrows raised. "Transparent? I'm not sure I understand you, Professor."

"What are your intentions towards Harry?" Professor McGonagall stopped and stared down at Draco, making him feel, somewhat, like a first year. "Well?"

"I have no intentions or alterative motives towards Potter, Professor." Confused.

"Then I suggest that you stop this ridiculous charade post haste." A command.

"Charade?" Suddenly, comprehension showed up and danced naked in front of Draco. "Wait a minute…are you trying to tell me _stop_ being friends with Harry?"

McGonagall looked down at him with a perfectly serious face. _That's exactly what she's telling you, Draco_, Inner-Draco pipped up.

"With every _respect_, Professor, no!" Forceful. "I will not cut off my friendship with Harry simply because you find it inconvenient!"

"Watch yourself, Malfoy."

"What really bothers you about our friendship, Professor? Is Professor Dumbledore worried that I'm going to influence the Golden Boy over to the dark side? Is that it?" Draco eyes grew wide as McGonagall's expression hardened. "Oh my, that _is_ it, isn't it? _I am not my father, Professor_. I do not want to harm Harry, I just want him a part of my life, and I'm _sorry_ if that offends you, but I am not going to just walk away from him, _no_."

Draco spun around and stormed away, the blood roaring in his ears. _The cheek_. He shook his head, trying to clear out his thoughts. _How bizarre_, was his last thought as he leaned against the nearest wall and pressed his face into his hands.

~~ ~~~ ~~

The portrait door swung open and Draco stormed into the scarlet and gold commonroom. His shock had dissolved on the way here, but the anger had hung around like a thundercloud, and his face showed it. He had gone back to the Slytherin dungeons first, only to find a note from Alena saying that she had wrapped and gathered all their presents and taken them up to the Gryffindor tower.

Harry looked up from his curled up position on one of the chairs when Draco stormed in and looked faintly concerned. "Hey Draco, what's up?"

Alena looked over to him. She was decorating the Christmas tree with Hermione, wands out, and she had just conjured up some pretty fairies that fluttered gently. "Who lit your fire?"

"_McGonagall_."

Alena and Harry looked over to each other.

"Ah," Hermione leapt in. "I was wondering when she'd talk to you."

"What do you mean, Granger?" Draco snapped.

"I got the impression at the last Gryffindor Prefects meeting that she's not too impressed by yours and Harry's friendship."

"Not impressed? Understatement of the _decade_, Granger. She obviously thinks that the only reason I'm friends with you two is because I want to turn Harry over to the Dark Side. She made herself _very_ clear that I was to stop all relations with you _immediately_."

Harry choked. "You're not going to, are you?" his tone was timid.

"Don't be so bloody stupid, Potter. I've never taken the slightest bit of notice of _threats_ and I don't plan to start now."

"Oh, that's good," Relief washed over Harry's face.

Before anything else could be said, the portrait swung open once again. Alena, the only one facing the door, screamed.

Draco flew around, setting his body in front of the two Gryffindors and Alena, his wand out automatically, his face set in stone. His wand tip was pointing straight into the shocked face of murderer and fugitive Sirius Black. "_Don't move_."

Sirius stepped back, his hands raised in defence. "Woah!"

"Sirius!" Harry's voice broke through Draco's concentration and all he was aware of was a black-haired whirlwind flying past him and throwing himself at the tall, thin man. 

Hermione was suddenly at Draco's elbow, forcing his wand down firmly, her voice gentle. "It's okay, Draco. We know Sirius. It's okay."

Draco looked at her, the smile on her face was warm, then looked back at Harry and Sirius, both talking a mile a minute, then looked back to Hermione. "Trust you two to know a mass murderer. Someone start explaining _now_. I don't have the patience right now."

"Actually, he was innocent, Malfoy." Spoke up Harry, grinning.

"Whatever," Draco waved the comment away. "Well? Who's going to start?"

Draco sunk down into one of the chairs and shook his blonde hair out for his eyes.

~~ ~~~ ~~

"Trust you to have a mass murderer for a Godfather, Potter."

Harry glared at Draco over the tops of his glasses, while the blonde stretched his feet languidly towards the fire and blatantly ignored him.

The five of them had been talking for nearly three hours, rehashing and reminiscing. Draco had remained unusually quiet all the way through the laughter of Harry and his Godfather, the feelings of protection to the messy haired Gryffindor that he had felt earlier coming back through his in waves, and he couldn't shake off the crawling of his skin. He wanted to put it down to his confrontation with McGonagall earlier, but there was a little man in steel-capped boots jumping up and down in his brain, trying to get his attention, and he was not best pleased with the sensation. After all, this was _Harry Potter_. _Why would I want to **protect** him_? Draco questioned himself.

__

Why wouldn't you? Inner-Draco raised an eyebrow before moving safety out of firing range as Draco got more and more frustrated.

Sirius yawned suddenly, his jaws clicking back into place with a stretch. "Tired, Siri?" asked Harry of his Godfather.

"Just a bit, Harry. It's been a long day." Sirius smiled, gently.

"Go to bed then. Rest while you can." Harry's tone was warm, with an undercurrent of amusement.

"I think I will. Moony'll be wondering where I am in any case," Sirius stood, surveying the four teenagers. "Don't stay up too late you lot! I'll see you all in the morning."

"Night Sirius!" called Hermione, sounding happily tired herself.

Harry stood up and walked over to the portrait hole with his Godfather, hugging him tightly. Harry opened the door as Sirius transformed into his black, shaggy canine form and padded softly out into the corridor, with only the softest whines.

"Hey! It's past midnight!" Exclaimed Alena. "Merry Christmas!"

The calls of 'Merry Christmas' was passed around and Draco felt his eyes gravitating to the pile of presents under the glittering Christmas tree. He smirked.

Hermione laughed, catching the look on his face. "You think that it's present time, don't you, Draco?"

"Bloody hell, yeah," growled Draco back, still smirking.

Draco caught the amused glance that ran between Harry and Hermione, Harry leaning over to audaciously ruffle Draco's fine hair, earning himself a death glare that could have melted glass. 

"Why not?" laughed Alena, adjusting her bright red Santa hat. "And as I'm wearing the hat, I suppose I'm playing Santa."

She picked up the first package, obviously a book. "To Hermione, from 'Don't Slap Me' Malfoy."

They all laughed, as Hermione gingerly unwrapped the present, trying to preserve the expensive wrapping paper. She flipped the leather bound book over when she finally released it and gasped. "Oh my. _The Mythology of Magic and Star-Gazing_. Draco, how on _earth _did you find this? I've been searching for it for _years_."

Draco tapped his nose. "That you will never, ever know, Granger."

"Thank you!" Hermione was dazed, flipping over the first few pages, still with a stunned look on her face.

Alena grinned, reading another tag. "Dearest Alena, from Draco," She placed this aside, with a smile for Draco. "I'll open it in a minute."

Soon, all that could be heard around the room was the tearing of paper and scattered bows made it seem like a sea of ribbon.

Alena swirled around the room for near on ten minutes in her new kimono from Draco, the silver butterflies shimmering in the low lights like dancing stars. Hermione was running her hands over the leather and dragon hide satchel from Harry, embossed with her name in Gryffindor red-and-gold, all smooth and suede lining. Harry was examining his wand polishing kit from Hermione with morbid fascination, despite Draco's rather personal comments about wands and their uses. 

Draco himself placed his present from Alena aside, a well-thought out gift of silver plated puzzles; something that he could spend hours staring at and poking at and figuring out, even if he never figured it out, it would always be around to be pondered about. 

He turned his attention to a rather odd shaped package, all lumps and bumps. He poked at it. Soft in one place, hard in some others. He raised his eyebrow, reading the tag with some amusement. _To the Evil-Over-Lord-In-Training, from the Golden Wonder Boy-Who-Lived_.

Draco pulled away the wrapping carefully, half-expecting it to blow up in his face, Harry watching on over the tops of his glasses. A flash of silver and pink, gleam of black gloss and Draco's jaw dropped. He pulled the paper of hurriedly, laughter escaping him in waves.

"Why, Harry, you shouldn't have!" cooed Draco, mockingly.

"Anything for you," chuckled Harry. "Poncy git."

"Well?" asked Hermione, wriggling with curiosity. "What's in it?"

"It's the 'Potter Productions Self-Ponce Kit', patent impending," laughed Harry. "Everything for the modern-day ponce!"

Draco chucked aside the black leather trousers with glee that, he noted, were exactly his size; ran his fingers over the classy dark green silk sheets, the perfect colour to co-ordinate with his velvet curtains in the dungeons; and held up the fluorescent pink fluff covered handcuffs with a look of absolute fascination.

"Omigod! Harry, where on earth did you find _them_?" shrieked Alena.

Harry grinned mischievously. "The twins helped me out."

"I'm going to have to have words with those two!" Huffed Hermione.

"Merry Christmas, Draco!" Draco threw a glare at Harry that could have frozen fire, before suddenly seeing the funny side of the situation.

They weren't quite sure who threw the first piece of wrapping paper, but soon the air was filled with ribbon and bows, spreading itself quite liberally over the room. When they all calmed down again, Alena reached for the last box under the tree, which was actually a smallish crate, with a green bow perched on top.

"Lucky last. Harry, this is for you." She handed it over to the black-haired boy, and he peered at it sceptically.

"O-kay."

The lid was soon levered off and Harry peaked inside, before gasping. He reached into the glass that was lining the box and very carefully extracted a rather slender something. It was a snake, with gleaming black and grey scales, little tongue flicking as it wound around his wrist. He looked up at Alena and Draco wildly.

"You got me a snake?" his voice was choked.

Draco nodded, as Alena explained. "My Uncle breeds them. This one won't get much bigger than she is, and everything you need for her is in the box. There's a magically run heat pad and there are some packets of food in there as well. Mostly they like crickets and large insects, beetles too, but I'm sure that she could have told you that herself. And we did clear it with Dumbledore first by the way, in case you're worried, and he saw no problem with you keeping a snake."

"We figured that you needed a Familiar and with a rare talent just lying around doing nothing, we decided that we should do something about it." Draco added softly.

"Thankyou! Both of you, thankyou!" Harry turned his attention back on the snake, hissing quietly to it, his face soft in the firelight. His emerald eyes turned up to them a few moments later. "Her name is Shilya."

~~ ~~~ ~~

Nearly two hours later, the fire in the grate was burning low and Draco was spread-eagle on the floor in front of it, one side of his body felt deliciously hot while the other side felt comfortably cool. Alena and Hermione were talking in low voices on the couch and Draco could hear Harry's low hissing to Shilya, a distant buzz in his ears that made him feel wonderfully safe. For once in his life, he was happy. Uncontrollably, pathetically _happy_. 

Happy not to be bored out of his skull at one of his mothers Christmas Eve parties, happy not to play the familiar role of charming and good-looking son for his father and all his fathers friends. He was happy to just lie here and enjoy the silence. He hummed under his breath, drummed his fingers on his ribcage, a light dancing feeling from being just past the need for sleep.

Harry shifted near him, making him turn his head. He was placing Shilya away in her tank that he had removed from the crate some time ago. Harry caught him looking at him and smiled. "She's tired. I'm going to move her up to my room now."

"I'll give you a hand." Offered Draco, rising himself up first on his elbows, then to his knees, and finally to his feet.

"Thanks."

Together, they lifted the tank carefully from the floor, manoeuvring it between the chairs and up the circle stairs with some trepidation. It was a risky business, Harry moving backwards most of the way, his footsteps low and careful on the slightly uneven steps. By the time they reached Harry's dorm room, Draco's arms were aching from the strain, his shoulders feeling twisted and uncomfortable.

Harry kicked backwards, the door swinging open and hitting the wall with a dull crash. They placed the tank on Harry's bed while he cleaned off his bedside table, sweeping most of the clutter into the top draw. The tank was soon installed though, Shilya curled up under one of the rocks quite happily and Draco took the opportunity to have a look around.

"So, this is where the Wonder Boy resides." Commented Draco, stretching his back out, turning in a full circle.

"Yep. This is it." Harry disappearing under the bed for a minute, chasing after a pen that had rolled in that direction, missing the open drawer. He emerged, slightly dusty and his hair looking even more ruffled than usual.

Draco smirked. "I should have brought you a _brush_ for Christmas, not a snake, Potter."

Harry scowled. "Well, I should have gotten you a set of manners instead of leather trousers, Malfoy."

"I'll have you know, Potter, that my manners are _impeccable_, you just don't have the intelligence or breeding to appreciate them."

"Breeding? More like inbreeding, Malfoy. All that pure blood is going to your head."

"Hey!" With a low growl, Draco launched himself at Harry.

They wrestled Hogwarts-Style for some minutes, the whole match being undermined by the laughter that stemmed from being so relaxed and happy. 

Somehow, they ended up on Harry's bed, out of breath and laughing, Draco with one leg wedged between Harry's own being held there as Harry tickled him mercilessly, Draco hovering above him, unable to move. Somehow, between the gasps and playful wriggles, between the rule-breaking tickles and soft punches, somewhere between Draco throwing his head back and Harry trying to sit up, despite Draco's weight on top of him, they came within inches of each other. Somehow it just seemed natural for Harry to close the gap between them, hands resting on Draco's hip and small of his back, and press his mouth to Draco's.

There was nothing fantastic about this kiss.

There were no birds singing, no violins playing in the background, no angels appearing in wonderment. There were no sudden flashes of realisation, no total moment of clarity, no thoughts of perfection, or coming home, nor any groundbreaking truths.

It was a messy kiss, and clumsy, and tongue-tied, and utterly beautiful.

Their noses clashed awkwardly, Harry pulling backwards, then forwards with every intake of breath because of the strange angle of his head. The bottoms of his glasses dug into Draco's cheekbones as Harry nudged Draco with his lips, trying to prompt a response.

Harry had morning breath and Draco tasted of the cool minty taste of someone else's toothpaste. Harry seemed to not know quite what to do with his tongue, flicking it out and lightly ran it over Draco's bottom lip experimentally.

Something in Draco kick-started.

He had kissed, and been kissed, many times before, but never before with the unerring innocence and naivety that was stretched underneath him, _kissing him_; that went by the name of Harry Potter.

He reacted.

He was off Harry, out the door, and halfway down the stairs when the first panic attach hit him. He kept running, stumbling for dear life, his hands on either side of the stairs wall trying to keep his balance. He fled past the astonished Hermione and Alena who were seated in the common room, comfortably rugged up in blankets and pillows, never hearing Alena's call to him because of the blood pounding in his ears.

The second panic attack ensnared him at the top of the stairs leading down into the front entrance. Draco continued to run as if his life depended on it, his silvery blonde hair flying out behind him, bursting the front doors open and ignoring the snow and the cold attacking his burning lungs.

He couldn't breathe, suddenly feeling like a child again, helpless. He sank onto one of his favourite rocks by the lake edge, burying his head helplessly in his hands, too tired for anything.

He had run, rather than face whatever it was his screwed up life was offering to him now. He had run so hard and so fiercely that he could no longer see, hear, feel, breathe; his legs felt like jelly. His mind was still running even now, making him want to hide somewhere very safe until all the questions, that were all hanging over him like a death sentence, went away.

Draco was no stranger to cowardice. 

It had condemned him so many times that he felt like he was at Deaths' Row. It had condemned him once, when he had been seduced by Pansy's older sister Rose when he was thirteen and too tipsy to fight off her advances. It had condemned him twice by never telling his father over the Summer what he could do with his Slytherin Pride and Voldemort Ways and living his own life his own way, not as a mini-Malfoy puppet with his father holding all the strings. It had condemned him thrice when he had run from Harry just now, left his mouth and warmth and dorm and house tower and school and fled down to his spot, _their spot_, by the lake. Cowardice formed the bars of his prison and he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to make it out again and feel the warmth of freedom against his face.

Hot tears streaked his pale cheeks and he sobbed dryly, not understand anything anymore, it was all just a muddle in his confused mind.

It was only when he felt the thick cloak being pressed around his shoulders minutes later did he realise he was shivering with the cold, quickly drying his face on his knees before lifting his head, drawing the warmth around him.

"What's the matter, Draco?" asked Alena quietly, sitting next to him and sliding her arms around him, cradling him to her.

He shook his head blindly, his throat constricting because of the tears and anguish. She slid her fingers through his hair and dried his eyes carefully with her thumb, leaning close to him, sharing her warmth.

"What's got you so upset? You were fine before…what's happened?" Her tone sounded desperate. "Please tell me Draco, _please_."

He shook his head again and with his hands tried to motion the words out of his throat desperately, wishing to be able to tell Alena, wanting the Malfoy Cowardice Curse to be lifted from his slender shadow forever.

"Potter--" His voice faltered. "--Harry--" He tried again. "--Me--" Desperate now. "--Kissed."

He felt Alena's sharp intake of breath against him, the cold and sorrow catching him off-guard again.

The fear had a name now, it had a face, a startling sort-of-handsome face, with messy black hair, startling green eyes and unbearably soft, soft mouth. It grew and it multiplied and it began crushing Draco under its heal while he folded his arms around his knees while he sobbed into them once more.

And Alena cried too. Cried for Draco, cried for the fear of possibility, cried for Harry back in the tower, who was no doubt crying too, not understanding. She wrapped her arms around Draco tightly as they sat out next to the lake, the snow beginning to lightly fall again, her face pressed into his hunched spine as he howled and shook, frightened by despair and the haunting face of Something More.

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

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Dedication:

This chapter is dedicated, with much love, to **Ishuca**; who sat Shadows!Draco and gave him a stern talking to when she heard that he wouldn't behave. Thanks for all your invaluable support and may the writing continue! Love you ~ Amy

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Amy's Notes:

Well, this chapter took me absolutely _forever_. Finally finished it though (it only took me a month!) after chaining myself to the computer one _entire_ Sunday, with a steady supply of chocolate (brain food). Natasha told me to just relax with it, and it was probably the only chapter that I actually wrote a plan for – and ended up completely ignoring the plan by cutting at least half of it out. My constant distraction may have been because my own writing has simply _exploded_ – and this came to a screeching standstill.

Hopefully, though, you won't have to wait very long for the next chapter, as Natasha has been getting updates on where I was and what I was planning to do with this chapter, so there should be some more _Shadows_ for you soon.

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Thankyou's:

A bloody huge thank you to all our reviewers: you're support is invaluable to us and we do love hearing your thoughts and comments on _Shadows_. You all know who you are!

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Mailing List:

I've set up a new yahoo group for not only this story, but covering our own personal writing. You can find us at: **http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/monochrome_shadows/** - We'll still be sending out email updates as well and you can also contact us at: **silver_prophet@mail.com**. Amy also has a brand new livejournal: **http://www.livejournal.com/~poetic_licence** so feel free to check it out and access cookies to news to this series. Thanks for reading!

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Next Chapter:

Harry's reaction to the kiss; the consequences of a stolen moment; Seamus and Hermione finally get a clue; Matilda reveals something more.

Apart from that, I have no idea. Please R&R - we'd love to hear from you!


	10. Harry: Puzzle Pieces

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The Spaces Between Shadow & Night

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

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Chapter 9  
_Puzzle Pieces_

Hermione was in Harry's dormitory moments after Malfoy had fled. She found Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, a blank expression on his face. His green eyes seemed to have lost their spark of life and the haunted expression Harry had had on his face at the beginning on the term was back with a vengeance.

Hermione crawled onto the bed, sitting in a similar position facing him. "Harry?" she asked tentatively. "What just happened."

Harry blinked. As if nothing of importance had happened, he said, "Oh. I kissed Draco."

The brown eyes, which had been regarding him carefully, widened in surprised. Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth in surprise. "Oh, _Harry_."

"It's nothing," said Harry nonchalantly. "Really, Hermione. It was really a spur of the moment thing."

"How can you act as though nothing happened?" she demanded.

"Because it _was_ nothing," Harry stated, his tone commanding and final. He wasn't going to talk about it any more. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a shower."

Hermione pursed her lips, and without another word, left the room. It was clear from her body language that she was not happy about Harry's attitude. Harry wasn't thinking about Hermione at this moment, though.

As he ran the shower, the bathroom slowly filling with steam, his mind was racing. He seemed to be running on autopilot: his mind was elsewhere and his body was doing things automatically.

__

I kissed Draco_. I _kissed_ Draco. My first kiss and it was with my worst enemy. No, my friend. My best friend? No, that's Hermione. He's just... Draco. Why did I do it? Why? Why? Why? It's not right. I'm not supposed to kiss Draco. I'm not supposed to kiss _boys_._

Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped under the hot water.

__

Right. The hot water and steam seemed to be helping his mind to clear a little._ Harry Potter kissed Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter has to re-evaluate his entire friendship with aforementioned Slytherin. Harry Potter has to buy more shampoo._ Harry paused for a moment. _Harry Potter needs to stop talking about himself in the third person._

~~ ~~~ ~~

Harry managed to avoid Hermione and the others for much of Christmas Day. He couldn't, however, get out of Christmas lunch. Especially as he was starving and the smells that floated through the castle from the kitchens were particularly appetising.

In the Great Hall, when Harry arrived, there was just one table set out for students and staff. There were very few people who had stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas - Harry, Hermione, Draco, Alena, a couple of Hufflepuff's and just three Ravenclaws. Many of the professors also seemed to have gone elsewhere for the holidays.

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had carefully left four seats for the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione and Alena were already seated, a spare seat beside each of them. Harry sat next to Alena, who gave him a whisper of a smile. He wasn't really sure if he should sit next to Hermione, so Alena was a safer choice. Granted she probably knew what had happened, but she wouldn't force him to make conversation.

Draco arrived a few minutes after Harry, the last of the students to arrive. In silence, he took his seat next to Hermione, nearly tripping over his own feet in order to sit down quickly.

Dinner was very quiet that day.

~~ ~~~ ~~

On Boxing Day, Harry finally found himself able to talk to Hermione. She didn't ask any questions, or even try and subtly poke any information out of him. Instead, she tended to fall quiet during their conversations, allowing Harry to talk or, when she did talk, to let the conversation drift to utterly inane topics which had no real purpose or interest to either of them.

Sirius was around Hogwarts all the time. Harry felt like he could go around a corner without seeing his godfather's canine form slinking away, trying to stay out of sight. Dumbledore must have known about Sirius's presence, for Harry was sure that Dumbledore knew everything that happened at Hogwarts, whether he was supposed to or not.

It was difficult trying to find a time to talk to him, but Harry finally managed it at a time when Hermione was out of Gryffindor Tower. He wasn't entirely sure where she was, but nevertheless, it gave Harry a chance to talk to Sirius. Or for Sirius to talk to Harry as the case turned out.

"Harry, I hope you don't mind me asking, but where's Ron?"

Sirius's question threw Harry for a moment. Then he remembered - he hadn't had any contact with Sirius since coming back to school. Sirius knew nothing about the bust-up.

"We had a fight."

"And?"

Harry blinked. What exactly was he supposed to say? "We don't talk."

"Is that it?" Sirius seemed surprised. "Me and your fathers used to have little spats all the time."

"This isn't a 'little spat'," Harry corrected, his eyes flaring. "And I'll bet that my father never conveniently forgot to tell you his mother had invited you and your other best friend home for Christmas. Or started yelling at you in the Great Hall just because you're playing charades with some Slytherins."

Sirius let out a snort of laughter. "Charades?" Harry rolled his eyes. Sirius sobered himself up. "Sounds serious. But Harry, what exactly _is_ going on with you and Malfoy?"

"Nothing!" Harry's voiced seemed to squeak slightly and a blush crept into his white cheeks. "I mean, we're friends. That's it." In a rather stiff voice, he added, "And his name is Draco."

"Oh. Sorry. But isn't it a bit odd, though?" asked Sirius. "I thought you hated him."

"I thought I did as well," admitted Harry. "But feelings change." _More than you know_, Harry realised. But that was a lie, Harry decided. His feelings for Draco who completely platonic. He hadn't _meant_ to kiss Draco. He wasn't _supposed _to kiss Draco. He wasn't supposed to kiss _boys_.

A female voice drifted brightly through the air. _"On the first day of Chrisssstmassss my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree..."_

Harry looked up in astonishment. It certainly wasn't Hermione's voice, and he and Hermione were the only people left in Gryffindor. Sirius definitely didn't have a soprano. Or a lisp, for that matter.

Shilya. Harry's Familiar was curled up on her heat pad in front of the fire. Harry had thought she was asleep (though it was hard to tell because snakes don't have eyelids as Harry had discovered), but clearly she had woken up and decided to start singing.

__

"Can you keep it down?" asked Harry. _"We're trying to have a conversation."_

"Ssssure. No problem, Harry." Shilya's singing turned into a quiet humming. Harry turned back to his godfather.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Um, Harry..."

Harry let out a low chuckle. He hadn't yet told Sirius about his new Familiar. To him, it must have seemed as though there was simply a lot of hissing. Being a Parseltongue was a lot more complicated than Harry had previously though. Shilya was quite the chatterbox and she could talk more than Lavender and Parvati put together.

"Sorry, Sirius. I should have told you." Rising from his seat, Harry quickly crossed the Common Room and picked up Shilya who hissed at him in annoyance. Her vocabulary was quite extensive, not to mention colourful. "This is Shilya," he explained, holding the snake in his hands. "My new Familiar."

"It's very nice to meet you, Shilya," said Sirius politely. From the way he spoke, Harry was fairly confident that Sirius had never had to introduce himself to a snake before.

__

"Tell him he'ssss welcome," Shilya instructed Harry. Her tongue flickered out, tasting the air. Her head turned to face Sirius. _"He's handssssome_." Harry laughed, but refused to tell Sirius Shilya's last comment.

When Sirius finally gave up trying to get Shilya's comment out of Harry, he asked, "How did you become friends so quickly? I mean, you and Draco. I thought you couldn't stand to be in the same room with him."

Harry was silent for a moment. Sirius was questioning his friendship with Draco. In all honesty, _Harry_ was questioning his friendship with Malfoy at this particular time, but he decided to ignore that. Harry had thought that Sirius would have been supportive.

"On the first of September four years ago, I knew no-one at Hogwarts. A boy came into my compartment and asked if he could sit there because everywhere else was full. By the end of the train journey Ron Weasley and myself were best friends. We didn't even know if we were going to be in the same house, but we were friends nonetheless."

"Harry, what exactly has that got to do with Malfoy?" asked Sirius.

A surprisingly frail looking hand was put up to silence him. "A couple of months later Ron openly insulted a girl who neither of us particularly liked. She heard, and, being a typical eleven year-old, she ran off crying to the girls' toilets. Realising that she was in danger when a mountain troll had been let into the school, we helped save her. She lied to McGonagall for us and from then on the three of us were best friends."

His eyes darkened. "Time is irrelevant. A couple of months, a couple of hours, a few terrifying minutes... completely irrelevant."

For a moment, Sirius was quiet. There wasn't really a response to that, and Harry knew it.

"What about the rest of the Weasley's?"

"They're divided." Hermione appeared beside Sirius; her cheeks flushed from the cold. She had seemingly appeared during Harry's monologue. Sighing, she took a seat. "Bill's neutral, the twins are on our side and Ginny refuses to be anywhere near us."

"The youngest?" Sirius sounded surprised. "I thought she was, well, y'know, rather... attached to Harry?"

Hermione gave a slight snort at this. Harry looked at her, bemused. "What is it?" he asked her. Looking blankly at Sirius, he asked, "And what do _you_ mean?"

In surprise, Hermione's eyes widened. "You really don't know?" she asked.

"Know what?" demanded Harry.

"Ginny _fancies_ you, you prat!" She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, are you really blind enough not to have noticed the way she acts around you?" Harry blushed, and Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Apparently you are." She sighed. "Even though Ginny fancies the pants off you," Harry blushed even more at this, "she respects and admires Ron more than you could possibly imagine. There's what? Less than a year between them? They're very close, so that's why she's on Ron's side."

"That's not the only reason."

Hermione looked at Sirius, then nodded in understanding.

This was getting frustrating for Harry. Was he really as unobservant as they made out?

Apparently so.

Sirius continued in the same vein as Hermione. "The fact that you've also become bestest buddies with the boy who has insulted her and her family for as long as she can remember and whose father gave her the diary which housed Tom Riddle's memory is obviously very difficult for her." Harry had to agree with this.

He looked down at Shilya, who had fallen asleep in his hands. This Christmas holiday was supposed to be a break from any hard schoolwork or anything that even remotely resembled thinking. It turned out he was going to have to do more thinking than ever before.

The days after that seemed to pass with an agonising slow speed. The rest of the Hogwarts students were due to return to school on January the fourth. By New Year's Eve, Harry was bored out of his skull.

After breakfast, however, Harry and Hermione were about to return to Gryffindor Tower for a game of Exploding Snap when a Ravenclaw girl Harry recognised from his Herbology class stopped them.

"Hi, Harry, Hermione."

Hermione smiled broadly. "Good morning, Lisa. How are you?"

"Err, fine." Was it just Harry or did the Ravenclaw seem extremely nervous. "Um, well, I was just wondering..." at this point, the girl began to twirl a piece of her long white blonde hair around her finger, "we're not really supposed to, but we're having a party tonight in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Kind of a New Year's Eve thing. We were wondering if you'd like to come."

Hermione didn't even bother to consult Harry. "We'll be there."

Lisa grinned. "Good. Um, do you know the way?"

"No." The location of both the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Common Room's were still a mystery to Harry and Hermione.

"Well, um, I'll meet you just out side the Great Hall at about ten, then," Lisa decided. She wasn't so nervous now, obviously pleased that Harry and Hermione had agreed to come.

"We'll see you then," said Hermione. Lisa nodded then walked off in the other direction where another Ravenclaw, presumably her boyfriend from the welcome he gave her, was waiting. The two of them disappeared off down a corridor.

~~ ~~~ ~~

The Ravenclaw Common Room wasn't actually anywhere near the Library. Harry had always thought that it might have been, considering the fact that Ravenclaws were always presumed to be studious and intelligent.

It was, in fact, fairly near the Gryffindor Tower. While the Gryffindors had a tower to themselves and the Slytherins had their dungeon, the Ravenclaws had a small wing to themselves. An angel, who asked very politely for the password before allowing them entrance, guarded the entrance to their Common Room. Lisa had whispered the password so that the guests (Harry, Hermione, and the Hufflepuffs who were still in school, as well as Draco and Alena) could not hear it.

Harry had now seen the inside of three Common Rooms. While the Slytherins lived in a fairly minimalist, cold atmosphere, and the Gryffindors lived in the comparable luxury of their tower, the Ravenclaw lifestyle seemed to be somewhere in the middle. It was a very practical room (in varying shades of blue, naturally), but with splashes of comfort in the shape of large padded chairs. The fireplace in the very centre of the room and various bookcases gave it a very homely feel.

The three Ravenclaws had decked the room out with hundreds of small lights - against the dark blue of the walls, they looked like stars in the night sky and music was playing, though Harry couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

There were nine of them in total, and their time was spent talking, dancing (how on Earth Hermione and Alena had learnt to dance like they had, Harry had no idea) and playing a very strange game which involved a large bar of chocolate, a knife and fork, a woolly hat, gloves and a scarf. According to Hermione and one of the Hufflepuffs, it was a Muggle game played at children's parties.

As midnight drew, Harry was cornered by Lisa, pulling him away from his conversation. "Harry, its nearly midnight. You should probably go and stand with Hermione."

"Why?"

"Well, everyone has to kiss _someone _at midnight, and I hardly think you're going to kiss Draco. The only person who gets out of it is Gertie," she nodded towards the youngest, a second year Ravenclaw, "but only 'cause she's got a terrible head-cold. And she's only twelve." She went back to her boyfriend; leaving Harry rooted to the spot. He had been having a very forced conversation with Draco and Alena about Herbology (Alena's favourite subject, apparently).

Slowly he walked over to where Hermione was sat, sipping the last of her Butterbeer. She looked up at him curiously, noting his worried expression she smiled slightly. "I'm guessing Lisa talked to you about midnight," she said. She stood up, looking concerned.

"Uh, yeah."

"Y'know, we don't have to..."

"No, I insist. It's tradition," Harry said, just as the large grandfather clock in the corner of the room began to chime twelve deeps 'bongs' rattling the window frames.

He pressed him lips against hers in a short, chaste kiss.

And it was over. There wasn't a sudden flood of emotions as Harry suddenly realised what a fool he had been and that he was madly in love with Hermione, nor was there a feeling of deep disgust. It sparked no emotion whatsoever: it was nothing. Nothing.

But if that was _nothing_, then what had happened on Christmas Day had to be _something_.

~~ ~~~ ~~

__

I wish there were some way I could change it. I could change everything. If I could go back in time I'd change it so that I had never kissed him. I'd change it so that I was never friends with him. That Ron and I had never had that fight. 

****

Why stop there? The little voice in Harry's head prompted.

__

Good point. I could change it so that my parents never died. That Voldemort never existed.

Harry's thoughts were quiet for a moment.

__

But I can't. I can't change anything. Even if I could, I don't think that I could_. One little thing could change the entire course of history._ While Harry was no expert on time-travel paradoxes, he had had some experience of the matter in his third year, using Hermione's Time-Turner. On reflection, it had been a most perplexing situation. If they hadn't have used the Time-Turner, they wouldn't have been _able_ to use the Time-Turner - the Dementors would have got to them.

Harry shuddered he didn't want to think of the Dementors. They still gave him nightmares.

__

No, Harry decided, _I wouldn't change anything. You can't expect to have the same friends all your life or be the same person. You definitely can't expect everything to turn out perfectly, either._

He rolled over onto his stomach, creasing the bedclothes as he did so. Reaching out for his wand to extinguish the light in the dormitory, Harry heard a voice.

__

"Everything will turn out all right in the end, Harry. You'll ssssee."

The green-eyed boy sighed. _"I hope you're right, Shilya. I really do."_

~~ ~~~ ~~

It had been a while since one of Harry's midnight wanderings. As his friendship with Draco had evolved, his need for the walks had diminished.

But suddenly Harry had an uncontrollable urge to roam the darkened corridors. To be alone. Grabbing his Invisibility cloak, Harry left Gryffindor Tower quickly and quietly. He didn't particularly want Hermione to know he had left. While she was a great friend and confidante, Hermione could be a little bit too _motherly_ at times. Harry couldn't remember ever having a real mother figure in his life, save Molly Weasley, and he didn't particularly want one.

The castle was as quiet as ever, even with the distinct lack of students.

Harry's ears pricked up. There was a noise coming from the Charms corridor. Deciding to investigate, Harry was surprised at what he saw.

"Y'know, you're doing to do yourself an injury one day," Hermione was saying, helping Draco up off the floor. "What happened?"

Dusting off his trousers, Draco mumbled, "I tripped."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. She glanced around. "On what?" It was a valid question. There was absolutely nothing in the corridor that Draco could have tripped over.

"I just tripped, okay?" Draco spat. "Anyway, why aren't you up in Gryffindork Tower?"

There was a slight snort from Hermione. "Gryffindork?" she repeated. "How very unoriginal." Draco scowled and a roll of Hermione's eyes followed this. "You mustn't have been paying attention to where you're going," she said matter-of-factly. "What were you thinking about?"

"Inner-Draco's telling me I'm a prat for not doing my shoelaces up," Draco grumbled. Harry saw Hermione look downwards. Sure enough, the Slytherin's shoelaces _were_ untied.

Hermione looked up at Draco, a curious expression on her face. "Inner-Draco?" she questioned.

"Yes, Hermione," Draco snapped. "_Inner-Draco_. The little voice in my head that tells me the truth even when no one else does. The little voice that tells me what I'm feeling and how I should be acting."

"Ah," Hermione said sagely. "Your conscience."

"I suppose." A scowl spread across his pale features. "Don't tell me you don't have an 'Inner-Hermione'."

The Gryffindor nodded slowly. "I do," she said. "I just don't have a name for her like you do. I don't listen to her an awful lot."

"You should," Draco advised.

"If I listened to Inner-Hermione right now you'd be lying unconscious on the floor," Hermione warned.

Draco considered this. "Hmmm. Why do you dislike me so much?"

Hermione's reply was quiet and thoughtful. "I don't _dislike_ you, _per se_," she admitted. "I like you a lot more than I did a few months ago. It's just... I mean I don't _really_ know you all that well." She frowned. "I don't even know your favourite colour."

The blonde-haired Slytherin was silent at this. Harry realised he had been holding his breath through their conversation and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the fresh night-air.

Hermione gave a slight nod. "I think I'd better go back to Gryffindor. G'night, Draco." She turned and began to walk away, with out turning back. She passed right by Harry, and the hidden boy held his breath, hoping she wouldn't notice him. Although he was wearing his Invisibility cloak, Hermione had demonstrated the ability to almost 'sense' him when he was around.

A slightly trembling voice called out to her. "Green." Hermione turned to look at the Slytherin. "My favourite colour is green," he elaborated. Hermione smiled.

"Goodnight, Draco."

~~ ~~~ ~~

If the castle had been quiet and deserted during the Christmas break, if was a riot when the other students arrived back. It was a rather welcome distraction for Harry, having other people around instead of just Hermione and Shilya for company. And there were only so many time you could play 'solitaire' with a pack of Exploding Snap cards.

Harry had been reading in the Common Room, when he heard a strangled yell from the fifth year boy's dormitory. He and the others who weren't unpacking, looked up. A moment later Ron Weasley stormed into the Common Room, his face red with rage.

"What is this?" he demanded, shaking something in Harry's face. Harry realised a second later that it was a black and grey something. A snake-like something.

"What does it look like?" he asked angrily, taking the snake forcefully from Ron's large hand. Shilya was yelling at the top of her lungs, once more proving her extensive vocabulary. Harry hadn't know you could do _that_ with a broomstick.

"It's a snake," Ron spat.

"Well done, Ron. Now - what colour is the ceiling?"

Ron looked thunderous at Hermione comment; the brown-haired girl had appeared behind him a moment before, after hearing his yell.

"What is Harry doing with a _snake_?" Ron demanded.

"I'm holding it," Harry replied, stroking Shilya's head gently in an attempt to placate the angry snake, who was now threatening to bite Ron if he ever came near her again.

"It was a Christmas present," Hermione informed Ron.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "From who?"

"Guess," Harry dared him, his green eyes glinting menacingly. Having Ron yell at him was tolerable, but had he continued shaking Shilya like that, he could have seriously hurt her.

In a moment of realisation, Ron's face turned even redder. "Him," he hissed. "He gave you a Christmas present!"

"And I gave him one." Harry snickered slightly. "The 'Potter Productions Self-Ponce Kit'." Hermione giggled slightly at this as well.

Seeing as there was obviously a joke he wasn't allowed in on, Ron got even madder, if it were possible.

"I got him a present too," Hermione volunteered.

Ron then began to rant, very loudly, and drawing attention from the inhabitants of the Common Room. Sighing, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a silencing charm. Realising what she had done, Ron made some crass gestures and stormed off, making Hermione laugh even more.

She collapsed next to Harry on the sofa, leaning her head gently against his shoulder, still laughing. Harry joined in with her laughter. It actually felt _good_ to laugh at Ron's displeasure.

"You'll have to take that curse off him eventually," Harry reminded her.

"Nah," she said. "It'll wear off in a couple of hours."

~~ ~~~ ~~

The tension was unbearable; Harry didn't know how much more of it he could take.

Instead, he tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away. Harry looked down at the Kneazle in front of him. It was the same one as he and Ron had been working on before... well, before the Fight. Harry couldn't help but think of it as _the Fight_, with a capital F.

This particular Kneazle had a dark brown colour fur that was speckled with tawny spots. She (Harry discovered the animal was female) looked up at Harry with big brown eyes. The creature had a certain liking for Harry, and Harry was starting to think the creature would end up in his care permanently. 

After the bust-up with Ron, Harry had started working with Seamus and Hermione in Care of Magical Creatures.

At this precise moment it was about seven o'clock in the evening and the three of them were down by Hagrid's Hut with the Kneazle (whom Hermione had named Halycon), doing some extra work. It was also an excuse to leave the Gryffindor Common Room.

Seamus and Hermione. The situation was _unbearable_. While they both worked, Harry kept watching them as they snuck glances at each other, blushing when the other caught them. If something didn't happen between the two of them soon, Harry was going to crack.

Too late.

"Are you two going to kiss or what?" Harry demanded, snapping his head up to glare at them. Hermione's eyes widened and Seamus flushed. "This is driving me mad!" He turned to Seamus, then Hermione. "You like her. You like him. _What is the problem_?" Harry was sure his voice had risen quite a few decibels by this point and was surprised that Hagrid wasn't coming to investigate.

Harry continued with his rant, as the other two Gryffindors stared in amazement, both at each other and Harry. "Honestly, if something doesn't happen between the two of you _soon_ I am going to be forced to take drastic action. I..."

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione ordered, pushing him out of the way and wrapping her arms around Seamus's neck, kissing him like Harry had never seen anybody kiss before.

The green-eyed boy gulped. He suddenly felt very self-conscious. "Erm... I think I'll take Halycon back to the pen with the other Kneazles."

Flipping his scarlet and gold scarf over his shoulder, he picked up the Kneazle and walked quickly away from the pair of Gryffindors.

At the pen, Alena greeted him brightly. "Hi, Harry," she called waving. She put down the black Kneazle she was holding. Turning to Malfoy, she said, "Aren't you going to say hello?"

Malfoy's greeting was civilised, and extremely forced. Harry was sure he was blushing and was extra glad that his cheeks were already flushed from the cold.

"Hullo, Alena," said Harry dully as he placed Halycon in with the other Kneazles. He brushed off his cloak and looked up at the two Slytherins. Alena seemed to have shunned the traditional green and silver-grey Slytherin scarf for a vibrant rainbow-coloured one that stood out against her black cloak. She later explained to him that it was a late Christmas present from Blaise. Apparently Blaise had actually knitted it herself.

"Where's Hermione?" asked Alena. She clearly wanted to go and find the Gryffindor girl, although Harry had a sneaky suspicion that this was just to leave himself and Malfoy alone.

Harry didn't even want to think about what had happened between the two of them, and certainly didn't want to be with Malfoy alone for the time being.

"Uh, she's with Seamus. I wouldn't disturb them right now."

"Oh."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow in interest. "Granger finally getting some, eh? Huh. Maybe she won't be so..."

"Shut up, Draco," snapped Alena. "I don't insult your friends - you shouldn't insult mine."

The black-haired girl scowled at Draco, the stormed off, though Harry noted that she headed back towards the castle rather than to where Hermione and Seamus were.

This left Harry and Draco alone.

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

****

Natasha's Notes:

Hmmm... I'm not really sure what to say about this chapter (though if you review you can say whatever you want about it (hint, hint)). I actually wrote most of this chapter before Amy had finished Chapter Eight so it was a case of fitting it in with everything that happened. Shadow!Harry is getting a bit too serious for my liking - I think this could be a job for Shadows!Weasley Twins. Next Harry chapter keep an eye out for them and Matilda. I know she was supposed to be in the chapter but she's being stubborn.

****

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Portuguese-GirL – punkpixie87 – Bored Beyond Belief – a_owl – EvilGenius – Sheron – Ishuca – Kelly – Kouji – Willowstar – JennyBean – JadeDragon – Hermione Joanne Potter - Yaoi Freakster – pastles – AtieJen – spheeris1 – mich shell – Gilanine – Danya – Anne Phoenix – chrisseee667 – LanaMariah – k – kiwi – Lady of Werewolves – ILLK – Val Mora – JaneyLane – Avalon Princess – AkkiNeko – beautiful disaster – bwaybaby79

****

Mailing List:

We've set up a new yahoo group for not only this story, but also covering our own personal writing. You can find us at: **http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/monochrome_shadows/** - We'll still be sending out email updates as well and you can also contact us at: **silver_prophet@mail.com**. Amy also has a brand new livejournal: **http://www.livejournal.com/~poetic_licence** so feel free to check it out and access cookies to news to this series. Thanks for reading!


	11. Draco: Trickery & Hearts

****

The Spaces Between Shadow & Night

by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence

****

Chapter 10  
_Trickery & Hearts_

Draco scowled as Harry astutely avoided his gaze.

They had been edging around each other since Alena had stormed off on them and every bone in Draco's body ached from restraining himself in an attempt not to kill her, or Harry, or, in all possibilities, himself.

"How's Shilya?"

Harry shrugged, still scratching his Kneazle behind the ear, making it arch up into his warm touching, purring like an out-board motor.

"Foul-mouthed."

Draco stared at him with a question-mark gaze.

"She likes to sing a whole damn lot and she's bloody talkative, and I shudder to think we're she picked up her rather--" he coughed, sarcastically, "--colourful language."

"A snake after my own heart."

"You wouldn't say that if you heard it. Or if you heard the things Ron said either."

Draco snorted. "Why would I care about the Weasel?"

A funny look crossed Harry's face but he said nothing, reverting back to silence. Draco watched him impatiently, an angry kind of hurt erupting closer and closer to the surface as Harry tried to will him out of existence.

Draco was mostly cross at himself though, not Harry. After he got over his initial confusion at the impromptu kiss in Harry's dormroom, _on his bed_, supplied Inner-Draco haughtily, he was cursing himself for running from it for no good reason. _It was just a kiss_, Draco had scolded himself, _you've kissed people before, you've kissed many people, female or otherwise, why was this kiss any different?_ That was the million-Galleon question of course, why was this moment with Harry becoming such a fixation for him?

And in between getting cross at himself, and berating himself, he even found the time to be furious with Harry. Although the past two weeks had gone past smoothly, he, being the sharp-eyed eagle, noticed that Harry was going to great lengths never to be in the same room with him alone. There was always an escort of some kind, Hermione, Alena, Blaise, Seamus, even teachers. Just yesterday, Harry had way-laid Professor Flitwick just to avoid being alone with Draco, and Draco found it incredibly irritating. Not to mention surprising, after all, weren't Gryffindors meant to be the brave ones?

"Harry?" Draco was well and truly fed-up by now, and decided that it was time to by-pass all his codes of silence and sensibilities to broach the forbidden subject. "About Christmas--"

"What about it?" Harry's tone was surprisingly cold as he cut Draco off, and his eyes wore a shuttered look.

"Well," Draco fumbled around for a moment, trying to find the right phrase and actually make it come out of his mouth sounding somewhat normal. "Shouldn't we discuss--"

"I don't think we have anything to discuss," Harry stood up, his face distant, eyes fixated on a point somewhere over Draco's right shoulder. "Do you?"

Draco's jaw dropped as Harry spun around and began walking stoutly back towards the school, his spine bent and narrow, like he was about to topple over with a stiff wind or a blustering drink.

"_Harry_. Harry!" Draco yelled after him, with no result.

In an attempt to curb his frustration, he kicked the side of one of the empty crates lying near him. Hard. And spent the next ten minutes jumping around trying to relieve the pain coursing through his foot.

__

Bloody Potter. If that's the way you want it, fine.

~~ ~~~ ~~

The cool sun glared with its cryptic eye onto the courtyard, reflection harshly off the snow and making Draco's eyes sting. The endlessly blue sky stretched for miles around him, making his smoky eyes blink.

He had just spent the past two hours helping Professor Snape in the Potions Classroom, being the unfortunate Slytherin who just happened to be passing by as the second year Hufflepuffs had all scampered out in an attempt to get away from the smoke of the latest Potions accident. Draco had pitched in with the clean up with half-hearted resentment, and Professor Snape treated him with the cool indifference that he had adopted with the youngest Malfoy ever since his odd friendship with The Boy Who Lived. It was a subject that was not discussed, obviously, and Draco felt a bit bereaved about it. He'd always had an interestingly pleasant friendship with his Head-of-House, and missed the impromptu chats that would spring up on walks through the Dungeon at night, both on their rounds, catching students out of bed.

And now it seemed like Snape had nothing to say to him anymore. Draco missed him.

Draco's cold hands slipped into the deep pockets of his elegant winter coat. Black, with a white fir in-line that made a pleasant sound as he walked as it brushed against the leather trousers that Harry had given him for Christmas. He liked wearing them on the weekends, it made him feel rebellious and raw, sexual and irresistible. Besides, they were also warm, melded to his body like a second skin and they made him think of Harry.

He noticed Alena and Hermione sitting out on one of the benches, but judging by Alena's cool gaze towards him, he decided that now would not be the best time to intrude on their conversation. After his odd conversation with Harry a couple of days ago, Alena had hunted him down in his room and given him a thorough dressing-down about his behaviour and hadn't spoken much to him since. Blaise, despite her distraction with her Ravenclaw, had noticed the fraction, and although she didn't understand it, she endeavoured to spend as much time with Draco as possible in mock protest of whatever was going on.

But now she was off snogging with aforementioned Ravenclaw, and Draco was left to his own devices, finding a small bench in the courtyard and pulling a thin book that he was reading for Astronomy from his pocket. He was barely three pages in when two shadows fell across him.

He turned a page, and without looking up, he casually addressed them. "Crabbe, Goyle. What can I do for you _gentlemen_?"

Vince looked down on his old friend with a wary eye. "Pratchett wanted us to tell you that we have Quidditch practice this afternoon."

Lionel Pratchett. A sixth year with a chip on his shoulder who had taken over from Flint as Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Cool indifference. "I can read the Quidditch board as well as the rest of you, so I already know about the practice," Calculating eyes met theirs for the first time. "What did you really come here to ask me, or tell me, whatever it is you want?"

"Well," Goyle shuffled his feet. "Your father--"

"What about him?" His tone was sharp.

"He wrote to us," Vince held out a well-folded, used-to-be-pristine-white expensive parchment. The seal was broken, but the Malfoy family crest clearly visible. "And we thought--"

Draco plucked the offending piece of parchment deftly from Vince's chubby fingers and unfolded it, heart thumping deep in his chest. His fathers fine script curled across the page with refined lettering:

__

I am concerned about my son. Word has reached me here that he has been behaving oddly and consorting with Gryffindors who are not befitting of his friendship, or worthy of his title linked to theirs. I have not received communication from him in some time and I would appreciate if you would make him write to me in the near future, as we have much to discuss. I have every faith that you will not fail with this request. Regards to your respective father's.

Draco snorted, his blood running colder than ever, pretending not to care.

"Well?" Asked Greg, clumsily.

"I will write. You can go."

They stood there, trading looks, and Draco impatiently stood, his lanky frame no matter for their bulks except in brains.

"Fine, if you will not go, I will. I have work to do."

He strode back towards the school, his mind frantically working overtime in an attempt to see a way out of this mess. His father would not be ignored for much longer, and the six letters in Draco's top desk drawer, seals unbroken, were testimony to this.

__

What am I going to do now?

~~ ~~~ ~~

For the fourth time in as many hours, Draco tripped over his own feet and would have been sent sprawling to the ground, if it hadn't been for Blaise's lightning quick reflexes, securing a firm grip under his elbow and guiding him sharply into an empty classroom.

Draco, still reeling from almost landing flat on his face, looked around, confused, his blonde hair ruffled and falling in every direction. Blaise pushed him down onto one of the desktops and sat opposite him with a thump of books and black boots.

"Alright, what on _earth_ is going on, Draco?"

Now Draco really was confused. "Huh?"

"Don't patronise me, Malfoy," snapped Blaise. "I _know_ you. Whenever you have something serious on your mind that you think you can't do anything about, you become a personal minefield. Your co-ordination goes to pieces and that was the fourth time you've tripped _today_, so what's _going on_?"

"Well," Draco had to hand it to Blaise, she did have an uncanny ability to stick her nose in precisely where it didn't belong at the most inconvenient of times. _I knew there was a reason I liked her_, Inner-Draco sat back and waited for the fireworks. 

"Harry and I kissed."

The look Blaise gave him was absolutely priceless.

"Just once, on Christmas Day, when we went to put Shilya's tank away and it was only once. And I ran away pretty quickly afterwards, not because I liked it, I was just scared and maybe I did like it just a little bit. It was completely idiotic and silly and spur-of-the-moment and perfect and did I mention idiotic?" Draco was starting to babble now.

"Stop," Blaise raised her hand firmly to cut him off, her eyes full of understanding. "Before you hyperventilate. One question though, Draco. Who kissed whom?"

"He kissed me." Quiet.

"And you ran away?" Gentle.

Draco nodded, studying his hands.

"And you…liked it?"

Draco shrugged, lifted his eyes a little and gave a marginal nod.

"But?"

"I freaked out, okay? I just…ran away without thinking and now everything's awkward. I'm not sure if he meant to do it at all, and he's just frozen me out, like nothing ever happened. I don't know what to do about it!" Draco buried his face in his hands, leaning on his elbows heavily to tangle his fingers through his already messy hair. And for once in his life, he really couldn't give a shit.

"Talk to him." Suggested Blaise, practically.

"He wouldn't even be alone with me, how the hell am I suppose to _talk to him if I can't even get him alone_?"

A shrug. "Make him be alone with you."

Draco's head shot up.

Blaise gave him a sinister grin. "Draco, you're a Slytherin. Start thinking like one." She stood up. "Are you coming?"

Draco smirked, feeling more like his old self than he had in days.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Snape stood over two of them with one of his patent Take A Deep Breath Because It Might Be Your Last® glares. Draco stared defiantly back, while Harry's eyes were trained on his grubby sneakers, poking out for his almost too-short robes. _He needs new robes_, Inner-Draco was becoming irrelevant in his discomfort.

"50 points from Gryffindor _and_ Slytherin, and detention for a week, starting tonight!" Eyes blazed down on them, before turning to the rest of the class with a snarl. "The rest of you, get back to work! Clean up this mess _instantly_ you two!"

Muttering under his breath, Snape turned, exposing the back of his usually midnight black robes, that were now a fluorescent pink, and swept out, just barely missing the sniggers from the back row. Harry shot a glare at Draco, who smiled serenely and began scrapping the remains of his cauldron off the floor.

His personal cauldron had been a worthy sacrifice to achieve a weeks worth of 'personal' time with Harry. He grinned inwardly, feeling more alive in this instant than he had since Harry's mouth was over his in reckless abandonment, breaths combining and fingers grasping.

It had taken three days since his discussion with Blaise to think up a suitable plot, and when Snape had announced the day before that they were making a Jelly-Legs Solution, his cunning started to work over time. He had procured some pink nail-polish, of the fluorescent variety, out of an unsuspecting Hufflepuff's pencil case (Muggle, of course) as well as a fascinating blue rod made of plastic, that Hermione called a 'Biro', the Muggle counterpart, she said, of a quill. Along with the nail-polish, and a handful of mint leaves that came from the kitchens after dinner the night before, leaving out several key 'calming' ingredients from the mixture, Draco had created the most spectacular explosion that the Potions room had ever seen. Neville Longbottom would have been stunningly proud.

Severus Snape had been spectacularly _furious_.

Most of the students had escaped the fly of pink solution (non-soluble, non-flammable, bullet-proof, and almost impossible to get out of any fabric) including Draco himself, who had grabbed Harry and pulled him under the bench, tossing in the mint leaves as he did so. Alena was laughing as she examined her brand new pink hair-streak, tossing Draco the first warm gaze that she had graced him with in a week. Hermione fussed, wondering how to get the pink off her Gryffindor scarf that had been lying on the table at the time of the explosion. Draco could see that a trip to the library was probably in order for her in the near future, unless of course, he decided to privy her to the folded up cleaning solution in his pocket.

His plan had worked perfectly, earning the required detentions for absolutely no avoidance on Harry's part whatsoever. Life was _grand_.

~~ ~~~ ~~

For an hour they had been scrubbing the floor of the Prefects Bathroom.

With toothbrushes.

__

Without magic.

Draco was humming under his breath, determined not to speak before Harry told him to shut up and stop humming, which, as the way his knuckles were rising, was sure to be any minute n--

"Oh will you just _shut up_?" Harry threw down his toothbrush with a frustrated look. "You're driving me _up the wall_."

"How's the view?" Draco calmly continued to scrub, flicking his eyes innocently up to look at Harry.

"_Malfoy_." Exasperated.

"_Harry_." Mocking.

Silence rained over them for a moment as they stared each other down.

"About Christmas--" Began Draco.

Harry shifted, grabbing his toothbrush and started scrubbing fiercely. "Not interested, Malfoy."

"We have to talk about it sometime." Reasoned Draco.

"I don't see that we do."

"That's because you're blind!" His raised voice bounced off the white tiles, making the echoes ripple for some moments, making Harry gape at him in surprise. He lowered his voice. "You can't avoid the subject forever. You can't avoid _me forever_."

Harry blinked, flicking the blades of his toothbrush with the edge of one chewed nail, thinking it over. "I haven't been avoiding you."

Draco snorted. "Bull."

"I haven't!" Harry's eyes gleamed with something that Draco couldn't place, before they trained back onto a spot on the floor. "I just... didn't know how to act. Didn't know what to say."

"You think I do?" Draco's voice was usually gentle.

Harry rocked back onto his heals for a moment, tossing the toothbrush aside and balanced there for a moment, his face caught between the shadows of remembered night walks and the light of Draco's eyes in the moonlight.

"Matilda's dying," he breathed, not looking at Draco. "Of cancer. A rare form of Leukemia, Hermione told me." 

Draco frowned, Inner-Draco rifling through his internal filing system before flashing up a memory card. He stared at Harry blindly. "The Gryffindor Reserve Keeper?"

Harry nodded. "She told me a while ago, about a month after I lost my voice, after that big bust up with Ron on Halloween."

Draco watched Harry pick at the edge of his shoe, something unsaid hovering between them. "And?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Matilda Thistlebury is Sirius Black's cousin." He exhaled.

Draco's mind went into over-drive as he stood up and started pacing the room frantically, snapping his fingers, trying to gather up the jumble of pieces that were scattered in his mind. "Does she know that you have contact with him?"

"Not that I know of."

"But she knows that he's your Godfather."

Harry nodded.

"But never said anything?" Draco's eyebrows were raised high on his elegant forehead.

Harry shrugged. "But I never told her that Hermione and I were the reason that Sirius escaped from Hogwarts when he was going to be Kissed."

Draco's eyes blazed as he stared down at Harry. "You. Helped. Him. Do. _What_?"

Harry waved it away. "That's not important."

"Christ Potter, if Snape ever knew-"

"But you're not going to tell him," Harry sounded frightened. "Are you?" He looked up as Draco looked down.

"Of course not," stated Draco, returning to his pacing. "What I'm trying to figure out, Potter, is the relevance of this sudden revelation. Why has this become a fixation for you."

Draco folded his legs up beneath him and sat facing Harry, his fingers the remembrance of a steeple in a church, his eyes glinting in the low lamp light.

Harry sighed. "It makes me realise that death really is right around the corner. And that makes me so scared I can hardly think straight, but on the other hand, it makes me want to experience everything, take every day as it comes because you never know when it'll be your last. And my luck can't last forever can it? Sooner or later, something's gotta give. This may sound really silly, but ever since Matilda told me, I've been wanting to be friends with Ron again."

Draco was slowly loosing his temper, but instead of being loud about it, he did it very, very quietly. "Are you serious?"

Harry was examining his hands now, rubbing his fingers that were slowly gathering back their flesh and colour. He nodded quickly.

"Harry, that… that… prat was a complete and utter _bastard_ to you, to both you and Hermione, and you just want to _forgive him_?" He stared, gathering his thoughts. "Will wonders never cease? And all this rubbish about luck. Harry, _you are an extraordinary wizard_. You have proven yourself over and over again, and still you put that down to dumb luck? Let me tell you something," he hissed. "You are an amazing person. You are loyal and kind and gentle and you make everyone around you want to be a better person, _including me_. You make a difference just by showing up and you're talented and brave and willing to go out on a limb for the underdog. You make the world a better place, make the people in it want to be better friends or wives or husbands or parents. Don't put yourself down!"

Through Draco's speech, Harry's eyes, shiny with emotion, raised themselves to his, his breath short. They stared at each other for the longest of moments.

Draco pushed off suddenly from the knees, grabbed Harry's face, and kissed him.

It was as fierce as the first had been gentle, proud as the first had been messy, and Draco drowned in it. Harry's lips were parched, his breath warm against his, Draco's fingers tugging themselves through messy black hair, knocking glasses slightly askew. He heard the shuffle of footsteps and a nearing miaow in the background just as he realised that Harry was just sitting there, allowing himself to be kissed, but not actually responding.

Draco tore himself away, not daring enough to look Harry in the end, yanked out his wand from his boot and muttered several spells rapidly under his breath. Retrieving his toothbrush and scrubbing furiously, blonde hair spilling over his stone face, he waited for Filch's arrival and dismissal with a forbidden kind of regret.

__

Fuck. He swore inwardly, realising that he might as well have just thrown Harry's friendship away months ago, and maybe then, it wouldn't hurt so much.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Draco's face was buried under the pillow, pressing his emotions and unshed tears into the Slytherin-coloured silk sheets that Harry had brought him, his fingers wrapped around the handcuffs that had been tucked between the head of the bed and his mattress.

He was miserable.

The door flew open and two bodies bounced on the bed on either side of him.

"Get up!" ordered Alena, bossily.

"Stop moping!" chimed Blaise.

"It's Hogsmeade day!" they cried, together.

"I'm not going." Miserable.

"_Draco_-"

"-You _have_ to come-"

"-It's won't be the same _without_ you-"

"-And besides, _Harry's_ coming."

"That decides it, I'm definitely not going then." Draco twisted away from the probing hands trying to prod him and poke him and tickle him into agreeing. He sloped out from between the sheets and grabbed his robe from the top of his trunk.

"Were are you going?" whined Alena.

"To drown myself in the shower," growled Draco, shutting the door of the bathroom firmly behind him, yanking off his twisted pyjamas, letting the steam and hot water swallow him up.

By the time he got out, the girls were gone, and Draco went back to bed, letting himself cry.

~~ ~~~ ~~  
TBC  
~~ ~~~ ~~

****

Dedication:

This goes out to **Constantine**, who cheered me up with a silly little quote that had be in stitches just when the writing was becoming too much for me. This is because I promised.

****

Amy's Notes:

Sorry that this chapter is short - those of you over at **http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/monochrome_shadows** will know that I've been up to my eyeballs (and more) in writing when I joined **NaNoWriMo** and spent November writing 50,000 words. But somewhere between Emily and her journal, I managed to roughly work out where exactly this chapter was going to end up going. Shadows!Draco really has developed a hugely insane personality in my head - he cries far too much for my liking, and has suddenly become Mister Clumsy. What's a girl to do?

But it got done on schedule, I promise a few of you that I would have it out the first week of December, and I did, so there! *laughing* Hope you all enjoyed it.

****

Thank You's:

Lady of Werewolves - Gilaine - ILLK - Val Mora - JadeDragon - Anne Phoenix - JaneyLane - LanaMariah - Avalon Princess - AkkiNeko - beautiful disaster - james - Ashura - chresseee667 - rainy_days - bwaybaby79 – Dayna – k – Kouji – K i w i – Ishuca - elspethdixon20686 – AriaThea – KiaraCurry – menecarkawan – LilyPotter – Sheron – Sara – Ktara – smitha-r – Bleu Moon – Mister Cellophane – Chosentwo4381 – SoulSister – oOopyralishaoOo - ~Mary~ - Zahrah Radcliffe – mood: rife! – Shades – Portuguese-GirL – and anyone I've left off because of my rushniess.

****

Contacting Us:

Email: **silver_prophet@mail.com**

Amy's (Draco) LiveJournal: **http://www.livejournal.com/users/poetic_licence**

Natasha's (Harry) LiveJournal: **http://www.livejournal.com/users/silvernatasha**

Characters (Alena, Hermione, Draco, Harry) LiveJournal: **http://www.livejournal.com/users/shadow_journals**

Yahoo!Group: **http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/monochrome_shadows**


	12. Harry: Carpe Diem

**The Spaces Between Shadow & Night**   
by: Silver Prophet   
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence 

**Chapter 11  
**_Carpe Diem_

__His knuckles had gradually been turning white from gripping the toothbrush so hard for so long. Setting it down for a moment, began to rub his aching fingers, watching as the colour slowly returned to them, trying not to listen to Draco. 

"Harry, that that prat was a complete and utter _bastard_ to you, to both you and Hermione, and you just want to _forgive him_?" He stared, gathering his thoughts. "Will wonders never cease? And all this rubbish about luck. Harry, _you are an extraordinary wizard_. You have proven yourself over and over again, and still you put that down to dumb luck? Let me tell you something," he hissed. 

Harry sighed. He couldn't help it. He had heard the 'you're a great person' speech from many people over the years at Hogwarts. 

"You are an amazing person. You are loyal and kind and gentle and you make everyone around you want to be a better person, _including me_. You make a difference just by showing up and you're talented and brave and willing to go out on a limb for the underdog. You make the world a better place, make the people in it want to be better friends or wives or husbands or parents. Don't put yourself down!" 

He had never heard it quite like that, though. He raised his eyes, staring at Draco in amazement. 

Before Harry could comprehend the situation, he found Draco's lips firmly fastened to his. 

Harry sat there in shock, his eyes wide open, and staring at Draco's closed eyelids. Realising Harry wasn't responding, Draco tore himself away, and began to scrub the floor again with his toothbrush, though not before muttering a few well-chosen spells which cleaned the floor. 

Filch and Mrs Norris arrived moments later. The caretaker surveyed the bathroom with a disgusted sneer. He clearly didn't believe that Harry and Draco had cleaned it by themselves without magic. His face twisted into a scowl, he dismissed them. "Off with you, then," he spat. "Dumbledore told me not to keep you past twelve." 

Harry disposed of his toothbrush as quickly as possible and fled back to Gryffindor Tower. 

~~ ~~~ ~~ 

Sunlight awoke Harry the next morning, and he rubbed his eyes, opening them slowly. He gave a start: someone was stood beside his bed - they had been the one to pull back the curtain around his bed. He reached for his glasses, and upon putting them on realised it was Hermione. 

"Out of bed, sleepyhead!" she said cheerfully. 

"Am I late for lessons?" asked Harry holding back a yawn. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head. 

"No, it's Hogsmeade day. I thought I'd come and wake you." 

"Oh." 

Hermione frowned. "I was going to go with Alena and Blaise. D'you want to come?" Harry shook his head. "Well, do you want me to buy you anything? Chocolate? Sweets?" 

Again, Harry shook his head. "Okay. I'll see you later then," she said casting a last look at Harry before leaving the room quickly, the dull thud of her new black boots (a Christmas present from her parents), breaking the silence in the dormitory. 

With a groan, Harry fell back onto his pillow. 

The dormitory was empty, save for Harry, and after a few minutes he crawled out of bed and into the bathroom where he ran a hot shower. Hopefully the hot water would wash away any memories of the night before. 

~~ ~~~ ~~ 

"Not going into Hogsmeade, Potter?" Harry looked up from his well-thumbed copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ where he had been reading about the Ravenclaw Riots of 1963. 

Matilda slipped into a seat next to Harry in the Gryffindor Common Room. She grinned at him, trying to evoke some sort of response from him. She frowned after getting nothing, and fiddled with the hem of her off-white robes. "Where's Hermione? Abandoned you to be with Seamus, has she?" 

"How can you be so happy?" Harry asked, his voice surprisingly cold. "How can you be so happy when you know you're dying?" 

Her expression darkened immediately. She spoke firmly to Harry. "I'm not happy, Harry. My total number of suicide attempts stands at eight. I spent half the Christmas holidays at home in my room crying because I knew it was going to be my last Christmas with my family. I'm _anything _but happy." 

"But you act like it's not happening." 

Thoughtfully, Matilda licked her lips, and it was then that Harry realised that she looked much paler and thinner than she had done before the Christmas break. She looked almost fragile. 

There was a slight cough from the direction of the staircases. Harry and Matilda looked up to see a nervous-looking George Weasley stood there. 

Matilda turned back to Harry, a smile once again spreading across her face. "Someone gave me a very good piece of advice once, Harry. That's how I get by. That's how I manage to survive each day with out trying to kill myself." 

"What was it?" asked Harry curiously. 

She cast a quick glance in George Weasley's direction. "_Carpe diem_, Harry, _carpe diem_." She stood up, smoothing down her robes. "I'll see you later, Harry." 

She left, quickly followed by George. 

~~ ~~~ ~~ 

Matilda's advice had been confusing. Firstly, Harry didn't understand what it meant. He had an inkling that it was Latin, but without Hermione around, he was rather stuck. Secondly, all of the Gryffindors that Harry asked didn't have a clue either. It didn't help that the only Gryffindors who were around were first and second years. 

Deciding to take a walk to clear his head, Harry was surprised when the Fat Lady spoke to him. "You look a bit lost, dear. Are you all right?" 

"Oh, um, I suppose." 

"Now, now. I can see something's troubling you. What's the matter?" 

Harry looked up at the portrait, wondering how exactly she could help with any of his problems. He wasn't exactly going to tell the guardian of the Gryffindor Common Room that he, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was having doubts about his sexuality. 

Wait, there was one thing he could ask her. "Do you have any idea what _carpe diem_ means?" he asked. 

The Fat Lady arched an eyebrow. She had thought it was something much more serious than that. "It means 'seize the day'. Hmm, you know, I might consider using that for a new password." 

Harry smiled. "Thanks." 

"My pleasure, dear, my pleasure." 

**~~ ~~~ ~~**

Harry had been sat in the Great Hall eating when he heard his name mentioned. He lowered his head, looking at the floor, hoping he wouldn't be noticed. 

He saw three pairs of feet approaching him. The loud clacking noise that he could hear was being created by one of these pairs of feet, which were clad in a pair of high heeled knee-length black boots. The other two pairs were also wearing black boots of some description. The middle pair of legs were also wearing stripy rainbow-coloured socks that peaked out of the lip of the boots. The final pair was most definitely Hermione. 

"Hi, Harry," said Hermione, taking a seat opposite the table from Harry. "What've you been doing today?" 

"Not much," said Harry, looking up. He saw Blaise roll her eyes at this. "What about you?" 

"Shopping!" announced Alena with a grin, dumping a bag on the table, which appeared to be severely weighed down by the amount of items it held. 

"Didn't Draco go with you?" asked Harry looking around. 

"That prat?" asked Blaise scornfully. "He's probably been up in his dorm sulking all day! We asked him if he wanted to come with us, but he declined." Her eyes narrowed at Harry. "What exactly happened at your detention last night?" 

"We scrubbed the floor of the Prefects Bathroom," said Harry simply. 

Draco chose this moment to appear. Blaise waved him over, and with a scowl on his pale face, Draco sauntered over to them. 

"Had fun burning a hole in Daddy's purse, Blaise?" he asked, eyeing Blaise's shopping. Blaise grinned at him. 

"Like always," she said. 

They noticed then, that the Great Hall had gone very quiet. Harry looked up at the professors table, but neither Professor Dumbledore nor any of the other professors wanted to make an announcement. All eyes were, instead, turned to a large black owl which had swooped into the Great Hall. 

This in itself was unusual, as owls usually delivered their letter's in the morning during breakfast. 

The owl was clutching a black envelope in its talons, and the silence seemed to grow more and more tense as the owl circled lower and lower over the Ravenclaw table, trying to find the person to deliver the letter to. 

Harry looked at Hermione. "What is it?" he mouthed. To his surprise, Hermione shrugged. 

"It's a Mourner," Blaise whispered in horror, as the owl swooped lower and lower. 

"What does that mean?" Harry asked quietly, as the owl began to slow. 

"It mean someone's died," said Draco in hushed tones, as the owl dropped the letter into the lap of a very white-faced Cho Chang. 

Hermione clasped a hand to her mouth. "Poor, Cho," she gasped in disbelief as the Ravenclaw Seeker stared at the envelope in shock, before running out of the Great Hall, closely followed by her friends. 

Alena shook her head in sorrow, the bright pink streak in her hair looking, for once, rather odd. "I wouldn't wish that upon anyone." 

"It was Voldemort," said Harry in a shaking voice. He was immediately aware of four pairs of eyes upon him. "He's started killing Wizards." 

**~~ ~~~ ~~**

****

****The news that Death Eaters has probably killed a student's parents rocked Hogwarts. The school seemed rather subdued for several days afterwards: the Muggleborn populus of Hogwarts had already been edgy, but now those of Wizarding parentage were just as anxious. 

The Gryffindor Common Room was strangely quiet, the sounds of various games of chess and the almost-rhythmic scratching of quills punctuating the silence. 

When an owl tapped at the window, a couple of first year girls fled in tears to their dormitory, dreading another attack. A third year let the owl in. It looked very familiar, decided Harry, and when it crashed into a chair instead of landing on it, Harry realised he _did_ know this owl. 

Errol. 

The Weasley family's owl. And the envelope was red. A Howler. 

The third year student gingerly picked up Errol, and passed the envelope, which was beginning to smoke, to Ginny who had also rushed over. 

Smirking slightly, Ginny announced that the Howler was for George, who paled considerably as his sister threw the envelope to him. He winced, and, gritting his teeth, opened the envelope. Molly Weasley's angry voice filled the Common Room, making everyone looking up from what they were doing. 

"GEORGE WEASLEY! HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A THING? I KNOW YOU AND YOUR BROTHER HAVE A REPUTATION AT HOGWARTS, BUT I _NEVER_ EXPECTED YOU TO DO SOMETHING AS UTTERLY OUTRAGEOUS AS THIS." 

George had his head in his hands now, though Fred was looking at his brother with a look which meant he didn't have a clue what was going on. 

"I WOULD HAVE EXPECTED THIS SORT OF THING FROM FRED, BUT NOT FROM YOU!" 

Fred gaped indignantly at this. 

"NOT ONLY DID YOU DIRECTLY DISOBEY HOGWARTS RULES BY NOT GOING TO HOGSMEADE, BUT TO GO AND GET _MARRIED _OF ALL THINGS. WITHOUT EVEN TALKING TO US! WE'VE NEVER EVEN MET THIS GIRL. I KNOW YOUR FATHER HAS A LOT TO SAY ABOUT THIS AND YOU SHOULD EXPECT A LETTER FROM HIM ANY TIME NOW, GEORGE WEASLEY." 

Mrs Weasley's voice softened then. "OH, AND WELCOME TO THE FAMILY, MATILDA, DEAR." 

The Howler burst into flames then and crumpled into ashes, and it was at that moment that the occupants of the Common Room realised that a thin-lipped Professor McGonagall was standing by the portrait hold. "I suggest that George and Matilda come with me. Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak to them." 

~~ ~~~ ~~ 

He knew it would happen eventually and there was no way around it. 

Sat across the table from, staring at the hideously patterned tablecloth, was Ron Weasley. 

"Have you seen anything yet?" asked Harry quietly, glancing at the crystal ball which was sat on the table. According to Professor Trelawney it was a well-documented theory that all Wizards had at least some ability to See. And, she had added, for a class as talented as hers, studying the crystal balls once more should be no problem. 

"What do you think?" grumbled Ron, not looking up at Harry, though switching his gaze to the orb. After a few more minutes of tense silence, Ron finally looked up at Harry. 

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded. 

Harry's brow furrowed. "What are you on about?" he asked. "Trelawney told us to..." 

"Not _that_." Ron was practically spat his next words out. "Being friends with that _Slytherin_." 

"His name is Draco," said Harry, quite unruffled by this. 

"Oh, puh-lease. What's he doing? Is he blackmailing you? Cursing you? What? I can't for one minute fathom why someone like_ you_ would want to be friends with someone like _him_." 

The green-eyed boy blinked. "And _I _can't understand how on Earth I was friends with someone like _you_ for so long." He licked his lips, feeling that familiar feeling of anger begin to boil inside him. Until this point he had believed that he had wanted to be friends with Ron again, but this conversation was like rubbing salt into their wounded relationship. 

Ron scowled. "Harry, he's changed you. We were best friends. We still could be. I'm willing to bury the hatchet if you are..." 

"I'm not." Harry's tone was icy, a stark contrast to the fire of rage he could feel building up. "I see no reason for us to reinstate our friendship. _You_ are the one who went off on one when I started showing anything but hate towards Draco and Alena, _you_ are the one who showed no interest in my life whatsoever, and _you_ are the one who practically killed Shilya." 

"It's just a snake!" Ron's face was red with anger, his fiery temper flaring up. "It's just a fucking snake!" 

Harry stood up quickly, practically seething, and nearly knocking the crystal ball to the floor. Luckily Seamus, who had been sat at the next table caught it, showing exactly why he had been picked as Keeper instead of Ron. He shook his head as he spoke: "She is not just a 'fucking snake'," he hissed, his voice low. "Shilya has been more of a friend to me than you have, Ronald Weasley." Harry stooped down, picking up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and then snatching his crystal ball from Seamus's hands, who looked surprised at Harry sudden actions. 

Aware that he was being watched in complete silence by the rest of his Divination class, including Professor Trelawney who had a strange knowing look in her eyes (magnified, of course, by her large glasses), Harry proceeded to kick open the door and descend down the silvery ladder without looking back. 

Barely comprehending the scenario which had just happened, Harry found himself outside the Arithmancy classroom, where Professor Vector's shrill voice could be heard from within. Feeling suddenly drained, Harry sat down on the floor outside the door, resting his head against the stone wall. 

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, the fifth year students who emerged barely seemed to notice Harry, and if they did, they chose to ignore him. One of the number one unspoken rules at Hogwarts among the students was not to do anything which might upset Harry Potter or one of his friends. 

The last two students to exit the room were Hermione and Draco, who were seemingly comparing their notes on the lesson. They stopped dead when they spotted Harry. Hermione crouched down beside him, looking anxious. "Are you all right, Harry? Is something wrong?" 

"Oh, nothing," said Harry, looking up at his worried brown eyes. Behind her, Harry could see that Draco, too, looked concerned. "I just yelled at Ron and stormed out of Divination. Nothing unusual there, then." 

Hermione looked slightly impressed at this. Harry wasn't sure, however, whether this was because Harry had yelled at Ron or because he had walked out of Divination. She stood up straight and held out a hand to Harry, and helped him to his feet. "Fancy going to get some lunch?" she asked brightly, seemingly able to tell Harry did not want to discuss the matter. 

Harry nodded, then mutely followed Hermione and Draco to the Great Hall. They were still discussing their Arithmancy lesson, which, from what Harry could tell, had involved turning their birth date into a spell of some sort. 

Their fairly bright conversation came to a halt when the looming figure of Ron Weasley appeared in front of them, a dark expression on his freckled face. 

"Harry," he said earnestly, not looking at Hermione and Draco, "I know you didn't mean what you said in Divination. _I_ did, though, and I am willing to be friends again." 

"I meant what I said," Harry told him flatly. "Now would you kindly step aside so we can pass." 

Ron glanced at Hermione and Draco, as if he had only just realised they were there. Hermione looked simply murderous, while Draco wore a blank expression. "Harry," he repeated. "Please reconsider this..." 

"Why should I? You..." 

"Ron," Hermione interrupted, "Harry is clearly too polite to tell you this, but I'm not: _fuck off_." 

"I wasn't speaking to you," Ron told her hotly. 

"Since when has that ever stopped her?" commented Draco. 

"Keep your stuck-up nose out of this, Malfoy," snarled Ron, and Harry could see his knuckles beginning to turn white because he was clenching his fists so hard. "You have no business in this conversation." 

"Yes, he does," Hermione said. 

"Neither do you, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. Why don't you run along to your precious books or your little _boyfriend_?" Ron taunted. 

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. "What did you just say?" she asked. 

"That's right. Perfect Hermione Granger. _Prefect_ Hermione Granger, top of the year and a Quidditch player boyfriend. You seem to have a thing for Quidditch players, don't you? Would you be snogging _me_ if _I'd_ made the team, huh?" 

Ron had already hit the corridor wall by the time he realised Hermione had screamed a curse at him. 

"Well, well, well. I think someone might be in trouble." Professor's Snape's voice sounded particularly vindictive. The Potion's Master stepped out in front of Harry, Draco and Hermione. Obviously he had seen the entire spectacle, and his lips were now twisted into a smug smile. He turned sharply to Ron. "Weasley, get yourself to the Hospital Wing." Ron scrambled to his feet and was gone, clutching his arm in agony before Snape could say anything else. 

"And you three." He studied the Slytherin and the two Gryffindors . "My office _now_." 

"I'd rather it that they came to my office, Severus." Professor Dumbledore had now appeared. Harry was beginning to wonder if any of the other professors were going to turn up and tell them that they wanted to see them in their office. 

Professor Snape looked less than please about this, but gave Dumbledore a curt nod. "Yes, Headmaster." 

In Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster invited the three of them to sit down. Fawkes, who had been sat on his perch, landed on Harry's arm. His weight was rather reassuring, though Harry had to admit the bird was looked rather bedraggled. Thinking back to the last time Harry had seen the phoenix in this condition, Harry decided it must be nearing burning day. 

"I do not expect students such as yourselves to conduct oneself in such a manner," said Dumbledore gravely. "And I certainly did not expect a potential Head Girl such as yourself to behave in such a way, Miss Granger." 

Hermione lowered her eyes to her shoes, not wanting to see the Headmaster's piecing blue gaze. "I was provoked, sir." 

"I realise that, Miss Granger, but one needs to keep a cool head in situations that arise." 

"I know, sir." 

"Hmmm. You broke Mr Weasley's arm in three places. Things like this cannot be so easily overlooked. Therefore I am revoking your Prefect duties and the privileges which go with them for one week." Hermione nodded morosely. She obviously agreed with Dumbledore's decision; if she hadn't, she would have been protesting. 

"May we go now, sir?" asked Harry. 

"Not yet, Harry. Now, Professor McGonagall has expressed her... _dislike_ for the friendship that has been forged between the three of your and Miss Rhyson. Professor Snape has briefly mentioned his concerns, but they are not in the same degree of Professor McGonagall's. While I admit that it is extremely unconventional, I see nothing wrong with it and will not be telling you to break off your friendship. Ties like yours, between the houses, are needed in times like these, and while your respective houses have never been, and will never be, great friends, alliances can be very helpful." 

Harry wasn't exactly sure what Dumbledore was saying. From the looks on Draco and Hermione's faces, they didn't either. From what Harry could gather, Dumbledore was telling them that it was perfectly all right for them to be friends, regardless of McGonagall's concerns. 

"Is that all, Professor Dumbledore?" asked Draco. 

Dumbledore studied the three of them for a moment longer, before nodding sagely. "Yes, Mr Malfoy. The three of you are excused. I suggest you head down to the Great Hall - I hear the House Elves have prepared a particularly nice treacle tart for pudding today." 

~~ ~~~ ~~ 

The familiar sound of Hermione's eagle feather quill could be heard scratching away. It was an almost soothing sound in the quietness in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was nearly midnight, and the two of them were the only people still awake, the last pair of seventh years having retired to bed nearly an hour beforehand. When the scratching stopped, Harry looked up from his book. "Something wrong?" he asked Hermione, who was peering into her ink bottle, a frown on her face. 

"I've run out of ink," she said, rummaging in her bag. She looked hopefully up at Harry. "Do you have a spare bottle? I don't have any with me." 

"Uh, yeah, I think there's one in my bag," Harry told her. 

Hermione looked around helplessly. "Um, Harry, where _is_ your bag?" 

"Oh - it's over there." Harry pointed at his battered book bag which was lying on the other side of the Common Room. 

With a groan Hermione crossed the room. "What's it doing all the way over here?" shed asked, picking it up and walking back to her seat, picking things out as she did so. Rummaging deeper, she pulled out Harry's crystal ball, which was still in his bag from after Divination. "Honestly, Harry, you..." 

She stopped dead, staring at the crystal ball. 

"Hermione?" asked Harry, closing his book. "Hermi?" 

Suddenly, Hermione dropped the crystal ball with a yell. It seemed to fall in slow motion, shattering into hundreds of shards when it hit the floor. Hermione was staring in horror at her hand which had been holding the ball, and Harry could see her visibly shaking. 

She didn't even seem to notice the large shard of glass protruding from her bare foot. 

Slipping his shoes on quickly, Harry was by her side in seconds. He put an arm around her: she looked as though she could fall over at any moment. He helped her into a chair. 

"Hermione, what happened?" 

She didn't answer, instead staring into space, still shaking. 

"Hermione!" Harry snapped. 

She blinked. "I... I saw..." 

"You saw something?" 

Hermione nodded mutely, her brown eyes wide. 

"What was it?" 

"V... Vo..." 

"Voldemort?" asked Harry, his heart seeming to catch in his throat. Again, Hermione nodded mutely. 

"Right," said Harry," quickly taking control. "We're going to take you to the Hospital Wing and go and see Professor Dumbledore." 

Madam Pomfrey didn't seem best pleased to have two students visit her at nearly midnight, but, with her hair in rollers, she healed Hermione's foot in a matter of minutes using an odd-smelling ointment that smelt very similar to violets. 

Professor Dumbledore was also awake when they went to his office, though Harry wasn't entirely sure if he was in his robes or elaborately decorated dressing gown. After Harry tried explaining the situation to him, Professor Dumbledore turned to Hermione, who still hadn't spoken. 

"Miss Granger, please do try and say something. We're all getting rather worried about you." 

Hermione licked her lips, though instead of turning to look at Dumbledore, she looked at Harry and Harry couldn't help but notice a hardness in her brown eyes he'd never seen before. "How do you do it?" She spoke in barely more than a whisper, as though she had lost the use of her voice. 

"Do what, Hermione?" 

"How do you see these horrible things all the time and still be the person you are?" 

Harry considered this. "I think I am the person I am _because_ I see those things." 

"That's very true, Harry," said Dumbledore softly. "Imagine what you'd be like as a person if you hadn't come to Hogwarts, or if you hadn't been the Boy Who Lived." 

Inwardly, Harry groaned. This was another thought he could add to the chaos that was his mind to be reflected on at some point. An internal filing system would come in handy right about now. 

"Professor," said Hermione, her voice much steadier now. "Is there any way that I can forget this? I know there are potions and..." 

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore's blue gaze turned steely now, "I think it would be wise if we didn't relieve you of these memories. Perhaps tomorrow you could tell me what you Saw." 

"No!" Hermione sounded almost panicked. "I'll tell you now." 

She began to speak, and Harry realised that he had never heard her speak quite like this. There was a her lecturing voice, her stubborn voice, her walking-textbook voice and her scared voice. But this was different. This was what Harry came to dub her 'story-telling voice'. 

"There were three people, sat in a living room. Clearly it was a Wizarding household as the photographs were all moving. Photographs covered almost an entire wall, showing pictures and treasured memories of the family. There was nothing out of the ordinary: they were a very normal family, just talking about their days at work." 

"And then it happened: four 'pop's' and the Death Eaters were there; three of them and Voldemort. The youngest, a girl, started to scream. She was grabbed by the nearest Death Eater. He pinned her against a wall." Hermione gave a visible shudder here. "He did things to her while the others were... tortured. They seemed to be interrogating them. It finished quite suddenly, as abruptly as it had begun. It was like a switch was flipped and they were dead." 

"Thank you, Miss Granger," said Professor Dumbledore, standing up. "Now, I suggest the two of you go back to Gryffindor Tower. If you wish you can be excused from your lessons tomorrow." 

Hermione spoke for the both of them. "No thank you, Professor. I don't want to dwell on it." 

"Very well. Good night Harry, Hermione." 

~~ ~~~ ~~ 

Harry was interrupted from his last minute studies (he had discovered that reading before Quidditch matches was actually rather relaxing), by a pile of scarlet cloth being dumped beside him. He looked up at see Seamus, already wearing his Quidditch uniform smiling brightly at him. 

"What're these?" asked Harry, prodding the pile with his quill. 

"It's a new Quidditch uniform for you. Angelina's says yours is getting a bit small." 

"Oh, thanks." 

"No problem. Are you nervous? Gryffindor versus Slytherin?" 

"Why should I be?" 

  
"Well," Seamus seemed a little uneasy. "You're kind of friends with Malfoy now. Last time you played Slytherin you were in third year and hated him." 

"Hmmm. Hey, have you seen Hermione?" 

"Nope. I thought she was with you." 

"McGonagall wanted to see her." Matilda appeared behind Seamus, with what Harry recognised as Hermione's Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck - Hermione had charmed it so that the red stripes changed to bright pink every few minutes, seeing as the pink potion Draco had spilled was permanent. 

"What for?" asked Seamus, clearly concerned. 

Matilda shrugged. "I dunno. I reckon it's got something to do with Lee, though." 

"Lee Jordan? What about him?" asked Harry. Lee Jordan was, of course, another Gryffindor seventh year. He was a friend of the Weasley twins, and rather infamous for his Quidditch commentary. 

There was a smirk on Matilda's behalf. "Got hold of some of Fred and George's enchanted sweets, didn't he? Not only has he got a four-foot long tongue, bright blue hair and yellow skin, but there's the most horrible aniseed smell around him." She shuddered. "I can't stand aniseed," she elaborated. She changed her tone. "Come on, you two, Angelina wants you down on the pitch." 

After Angelina's pre-match talk in the changing rooms (thirteen minutes - her personal record), the Gryffindor team trooped out onto the pitch. The Slytherins were already warming up, and Harry spotted Draco flying up near the Slytherin goalposts. 

The team mounted their brooms waiting for Madam Hooch to start the game. 

Harry was most amused when he heard who was doing the Quidditch announcing. 

"Welcome to Slytherin versus Gryffindor!" 

"I think you'll find that's _Gryffindor versus Slytherin_," interjected a second voice. 

"Does it really matter?" 

"Well, it's alphabetical." 

"Sure. Well anyway, welcome to the match everyone. I am Alena Rhyson and this is Hermione Granger. I will warn you now that Hermione knows diddlysquat about Quidditch." 

"And Alena knows diddlysquat in general." At this point Harry could imagine Alena sticking her tongue out at Hermione, and Hermione smirking. 

"Anyway," continued Alena. "We're going to be commentating as Lee Jordan managed to get hold of some enchanted sweets." 

There was a ripple of laughter from those in the crowd who had witnessed the events. 

"Alena, we should probably get on with the commentary," pointed out Hermione, and Harry couldn't help but agree. This was going to be _interesting_. "Madam Hooch is... waiting for us to stop talking. Okay, now both teams are in the air and... they're off!" 

"Gryffindor Captain, Angelina Johnson, has the Quaffle and... the Quaffle is knocked out of her hands by Slytherin Chaser Ricardo Leverett." 

"Looks like he's been working out since the last Slytherin match," commented Hermione airily. 

"Oh, he has!" said Alena. "He's got a great set of abs!" 

"Miss Rhyson..." Professor McGonagall didn't sound so much angry as amused. 

"Oh, right. Anyway, Slytherin score, blah blah blah. Oh!" Alena seemed to wince. "That _had_ to hurt - Gryffindor Keeper Seamus Finnigan is knocked out by a Bludger!" 

"Oh no!" 

"Don't worry, Hermi," Alena reassured her, "I'm sure you'll get him back in one piece." 

Harry swore under his breath. Madam Pomfrey was already attending to Seamus's injuries, as he was being carried off on a stretcher. It looked like his arm was broken. Now Gryffindor were minus their Keeper, making the job of the Slytherin Chasers a lot easier. 

"Katie Bell of Gryffindor has the Quaffle now, and she's heading back down the pitch..." 

"It looks like the Gryffindor Beaters, Fred and George Weasley, are waging their attack on the Slytherin Keeper," Hermione interrupted, as the Slytherin Keeper got a Bludger to the ribs. 

_They're trying to even the score_, realised Harry, scanning the skies for the Snitch. He spotted Draco doing the same thing at the opposite end of the pitch. From Hermione's enthusiastic shouting, he had the feeling that Gryffindor had just scored. 

The Snitch was nowhere in sight. There wasn't even a slight gleam from anywhere. Instinctively, Harry swung underneath his broom, a second before a Bludger would have decapitated him. Righting himself, he continued his search for the Snitch, flying in ever-increasing circles. 

There was a cheer from the Gryffindor stands as Alicia Spinnet scored another goal for Gryffindor. Harry spotted Matlida cheering on the team (or perhaps just George) easily - her flashing pink scarf was easily distinguishable from the rest of the crowd. 

"And I think that Slytherin Seeker, Draco Malfoy has spotted the Snitch!" Alena's voice sounded excited as it blasted across the stadium. There was a momentary hush across the stands as the spectators stopped their cheering to watch with baited breath as Draco went into a steep dive, not even caring that Gryffindor had scored once again. 

Harry's eyes widened in astonishment and he went into auto-Seeker mode in an attempt to catch the Snitch before Draco. It took him a second to realise that there was no Snitch - the shining golden-winged ball was just metres from him and in a completely different place than where Draco was headed. 

_Wronski Feint_, thought Harry. _Not bad_. In an almost leisurely movement, Harry put on a burst of speed and plucked the Snitch from the air, it's delicate wings beating helplessly against his fingers. Victorious, Harry raised it above his head, grinning as he did so. 

"And Potter has caught the Snitch for Gryffindor!" Harry could imagine Hermione almost jumping out of her seat. "It looks like Malfoy's Wronski Feint was in vain - Gryffindor win! 190 - 20! The match is over!" 

Harry didn't know what he was more impressed with - Hermione's correct use of Quidditch terminology or Alena not swearing aloud, although he did hear a loud grumble from the commentary box. He didn't have much chance to think of anything else as the rest of the Gryffindor team descended on him: if they won their next match by at least fifty points they were a dead cert for the Quidditch Cup. 

~~ ~~~ ~~ 

Harry had already been in the kitchens for an hour. The House Elves were busy scurrying around him, preparing food for the following day and washing up the plates and cutlery from the evening meal. 

In front of Harry was the remains of a piece of chocolate cake, and in a bowl was a very gloopy concoction which had once been a rich chocolate ice cream. 

"You know, if you eat to much chocolate you'll get spots," a voice broke into Harry's thoughts. Harry looked up to see Draco stood across the table from him. "That's what Blaise and Alena say." 

Harry spooned up some of the ice cream and tipped his spoon so that it fell back into the bowl with a plop. "Hermione says it's comfort food." 

"So do Blaise and Alena. Must be a girl thing." Draco sat next to Harry as Harry finished off his ice cream with a couple of large spoonfuls. "So is it comforting?" asked Draco. 

The Gryffindor shrugged. "I suppose." 

"Harry, can we talk?" 

"I though that's what we're doing." 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry, we need to discuss our friendship. I mean, is all the hassle worth it?" 

Looking into his now-empty bowl, the green-eyed boy blinked. He looked up at his comrade. _Have his eyes always been _**that** _grey?_ Harry pondered. 

"What is there to discuss?" 

"In case you haven't noticed Harry, we happen to have kissed a few times..." 

"You kissed _me_," interrupted Harry. 

"You kissed me first!" shot back Draco. 

Harry couldn't help but grin at this. Draco grinned as well. The tension between them was gone. Looking deeper into the blond-haired Slytherin's eyes, Harry came to sudden realisation. "I was given a very good piece of advice the other day," he said, his voice coming out close to a whisper. 

Draco's eyebrows rose. "What was it?" he asked. 

"_Carpe diem_," whispered Harry, before leaning over hurriedly and crushing his lips against Draco's. 

~~ ~~~ ~~   
TBC   
~~ ~~~ ~~ 

**Natasha's Notes:**   
Oooh. What's going to happen next? Erm... I'm not sure, actually. Draco's up next - which means that it's Amy's turn. I enjoyed writing that - well, the Quidditch scene was a little difficult, but I think I pulled it off. Plus, angry!Hermione is fun to write, as is Matilda in general. Speaking of Matilda, check out the Shadows Journals - http://www.livejournal.com/~shadow_journals - where you can read the diaries of Matilda, Alena and Hermione. 

**Mailing List: **   
If you wish to be placed on our mailing list for chapter updates when they are posted, either leave your email in a review to us (as well as a review!) or email us at silver_prophet@mail.com and thanks for reading The Spaces Between Shadows & Night. 

**Contacting Us:**   
Email: silver_prophet@mail.com   
Amy's (Draco) LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/poetic_licence   
Natasha's (Harry) LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/silvernatasha   
Characters (Alena, Hermione, Draco, Harry) LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/shadow_journals   
Yahoo!Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/monochrome_shadows 

**Thank You's:**   
Lady - Sheron - Blackice - hahah. - chrisseee667 - punkpixie87 - Sheron - Kouji - and anyone else who I have forgotten in a moment of stupidity. 


	13. Draco: Kiss And Don't Tell

The Spaces Between Shadow & Night by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:   
silverphoenix & poetic licence   
  


Chapter 12  
Kiss-And-Don't-Tell

Draco, as a strict rule, didn't like to be hugged.  
  
There was something about it that he found too deeply personal and too confronting. He didn't like feeling so vulnerable.  
  
He, ever since he'd turned nine or so, would always look for an excuse to wriggle out of his mother's impulsive embraces, until she finally took the hint and contented herself with running slender fingers carelessly through her sons fine blonde hair.  
  
Draco didn't particularly like that either, but his childishly selfish love for his mother overriding his sense of immaculate perfection and would allow it.  
  
But Harry Potter obviously didn't play by Draco's rules.  
  
Draco was beginning to panic into the fiery, if not a little sloppy, kiss when he felt Harry being to crawl across the table towards him, intent on trying to crawl into his lap, firm hands framing his face. They held it still as an uncertain tongue poked and prodded at his lips.  
  
Draco pulled away, gasping in an undignified and ruffled manner, Harry blinking owlishly at him, glasses slightly askew, crouching awkwardly, all knees and elbows, on the table, hands sliding from cheeks to neck to shoulders, trying to pull the marginally taller boy to him.  
  
Draco squirmed, Harry finally getting the message, his hands falling away, eyes limpid and full of open emotion.  
  
"When I said we needed to talk, Potter, I meant actual talk, not just your idea of metaphorical talking." Draco snapped with impatience.  
  
Harry back-peddled so hard off the table that Draco almost laughed, his face betraying some of his own emotions on their latest kiss-and-don't-tell.  
  
"Shit," muttered Harry, his face red and horrified. "Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck."  
  
Now Draco really did laugh.  
  
Harry whimpered helplessly into the pit created by his arms, obviously praying for the earth to come and swallow him up in a long and painfully death, listening to Draco laugh at him.  
  
Draco studied him, the black gloss of his mop of hair; the half-soft, half-hard texture of his hands; the breaking of his voice as he continued to swear, a trifle more creatively than Draco could have ever suspected from the Golden Boy of Gryffindor. He could almost hear the blush rising from him.  
  
Leaning heavily on his palms, elbows wedged to the wood, he surveyed the kitchens. Small, globe like eyes were peering out from the corners and with a wave of his hand, they all vanished, the faint scuttling of tiny, efficient feet the only thing betraying them. Only one figure stayed.  
  
"What has Master Malfoy done to Harry Potter? What has Master Malfoy done?"  
  
A double take. "Dobby?"  
  
The house elf pulled himself up to his full height, which admittedly wasn't much, mismatching socks and Weasley jumper aside, and glared Draco down. "What has Master Malfoy done to Harry Potter?"  
  
Harry raised his head.  
  
"It's okay, Dobby."  
  
"Harry Potter should not be talking to Master Malfoy, he should not." The house elves ears flapped uncertainly.  
  
"Dobby." Suddenly, Harry's voice betrayed itself with a low, threatening growl that reached his flashing eyes.  
  
Dobby shrank away, his hands twisting together.  
  
Harry found his feet quickly, still looking at everything but Draco, his hands clenched. "I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one night. I'm going to bed."  
  
With an air of dejected finality, he rushed out the kitchen door before Draco could even blink. Draco stared after him, a vague sense of absurdity stirring deep within him, before groaning to himself.  
  
A long time after the house elves had returned to their work, and an even longer time after Draco himself had returned to his dorm and tossed himself onto his bed, Dobby remained a forlorn statue, eyes impossibly big.  
  
~~ ~~~ ~~  
  
Draco pulled the covers over his head and determinedly tried to make the day go away with sheer force of will. But it seemed that the gods had been drinking again that day and decided that they would make a merry mockery of all the little people below them by wrecking havoc with their lives. His particular lot in life was obviously a favourite at the moment.  
  
The bed springs creaked with the added weight of an extra body, and nimble fingers dived into the blankets, poking and prodding and tickling their way through to him. He fought them for as long as he could, but in the end, gave up with an ungraceful grunt.  
  
The blankets slid away and he emerged, glaring at Alena.  
  
"Fuck off, Rhyson." A note of impatience betrayed him.  
  
Alena raised an eyebrow. "What crawled up your butt and died?" she asked, calmly. Alena could be really dangerous sometimes, in fact, the calmer she got, the more dangerous she could be.  
  
"What the fuck do you care?"  
  
"I don't, trust me."  
  
Draco glared at her. Alena stared back, still calm as a cucumber.  
  
"Where's Blaise?"  
  
"Off with her boy-friend." A touch of mocking.  
  
"Where's Hermione?"  
  
"Probably off with hers." Hazel eyes were rolled.  
  
"So you came to annoy me," he snorted sarcastically. "Brill."  
  
"Although I thought you'd be off with your better-half," Alena curled her hair around a lock of her hair and tugged. "But I suppose after his win yesterday, he's in the dog house."  
  
Draco reeled. "What did you just say?" he spat through his teeth.  
  
Alena looked at him, her eyes glinting. "Did I cut a bit too close to the bone, Drakey?"  
  
"Get. Out."  
  
"Malfoy, you have no sense of humour, I swear."  
  
Alena made out to flop back on the bed in mock horror, but Draco had seen red. He flashed a hand out and grabbed her face in a surprisingly strong grip. "Potter is not my boyfriend, have you got that Rhyson?"  
  
"Draco!" gasped Alena.  
  
He let her go quickly, shooting daggers. Alena rubbed at her jawbone, bruises already sprouting on her fair skin.  
  
"What on earth has gotten into you, Malfoy?" she spat, angry now.  
  
"Just you at this particular point in time!" he growled back.  
  
Alena scrambled away from him, half-flopping, half-falling off the edge of the bed, and kicked out of her calm mode, right into her screaming mode. "What is your problem?! You know you like him you stupid arse, half the fucking school knows, have watched you two swoop around each other, dance around the issue, but you know, deep down, that all you want to do is snog him senseless! For Christ's sake Draco, stop acting like a hormonal prima donna, get over yourself and stop acting like it's the end of the world! The world does not revolve around you, Draco Lucius Malfoy!"  
  
Draco stared in shock after her long after she had stormed from the room, absorbed in the ripples of the solid door in front of him, before flopping back into the bed and covering his head with a pillow.  
  
~~ ~~~ ~~  
  
The day was turning from bad to worse.   
  
Alena was still not speaking to Draco and sat with Hermione or Seamus at every opportunity.  
  
Harry was avoiding him as well, after the scene in the kitchens the night before.  
  
All the Gryffindors were superiorly smug towards all the Slytherins, after their win at Quidditch.  
  
Draco slumped low in his chair and tried to forget about the world.  
  
~~ ~~~ ~~  
  
Blaise, on the other hand, was not a Slytherin for nothing. When she thumped down next to Draco in the library, Draco felt a shadow of foreboding.  
  
"Well?" she asked, impatiently.  
  
Draco looked confused. "Well what?"  
  
"Well, what are you sulking about now?"  
  
"I'm not sulking," Draco said, resisting a pout. "I'm doing my Transfiguration assignment."  
  
Blaise looked over the jumbled notes with careless disbelief. "As much as I admire this sudden conscientious outlook to your school work, Draco, I can't remember the last time that you actually did your Transfiguration homework instead of simply paying someone else to do it for you."  
  
"You take all the meaning out of my life."  
  
"I try my hardest," grinned Blaise. "But seriously, Draco. What are you sulking over? Potter?"  
  
"Why does everyone think my life revolves around Harry bloody Potter?"  
  
Blaise rolled her eyes. "Maybe because you act like it does?"  
  
"He's the Boy-Who-Sodding-Lived--"  
  
"Who's fast growing into a man." Interjected Blaise, smugly.  
  
"--not the centre of my universe!" Draco fumed.  
  
"Then why is he getting to you so much?"  
  
"I. Have. No. Fucking. Clue." Draco thumped the table after each word, and felt an overwhelming desire to let go of his dignity for a moment and spill out everything.  
  
"I'm meant to hate him! Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, enemies to the end. He's meant to be the Hero, I'm meant to follow in my fathers footsteps and become A Proper Malfoy. I'm not meant to be interested in petty friendships, but manipulating people for my own uses. I'm not meant to notice how he pushes his glasses up his nose, or how he looks at me with those hopelessly clueless eyes, or how he holds his quill in that awkward grip that he has. I'm meant to hate him, but instead I..." Draco trailed off, staring into space before burying his face in his arms. "I'm meant to hate him. Why can't I just hate him again?"  
  
Blaise gave the blonde mop of hair a knowing look and stayed wisely silent.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Draco started to feel a little strange right after lunch. There was something not quiet right about the way he stomach seemed to swirl dubiously at him. It was history of magic, and Draco was sitting right in the back row, farthest away from the window, right where he had a direct view at the back of Harry's head.

His head felt heavy, a kind of ache that wouldn't leave him alone. Binns drone on the background as Draco rested his head on his arms and dozed a little.

He probably wouldn't have even known that class had come to an end if Blaise hadn't of poked him in the ribs slightly to make him move.

"Draco, come on! We need to get to Potions!" she hissed at him, pulling him to his feet.

His head felt like it was filled with cotton wool, and his chest was heavy. This felt like something, like something familiar. He knew this feeling, but every time he thought he had the memory, it darted away from him, and he was too sluggish to try and catch it. He slopped into class, Blaise's hand gripping his elbow.

Snape was standing, straight and tall at the board, writing something in that neat, unforgiving handwriting of his, each letter precise and angular, much like the man himself. Draco willed himself to stay alert. If one class, one Professor, was the most demanding of elertness, this was it.

Then he tripped over his own feet.

The Gryffindors roared with laughter, Ravenclaws rolling their eyes, Hufflepuffs trying to hide their giggles with sympathy and the Slytherins grinned at each other to look upon the sight of their fallen 'Prince'.

"Mister Malfoy!" Draco raised his face and stared into the black eyes of his Head of House. Snape continued to stare at him for long moments before raising his head to address Blaise. "Miss Zabini. Escort Mister Malfoy directly to the hospital wing before he kneels into his potion and blows us all up with his vagueness."

Blaise helped Draco up, guiding him out of the classroom. Draco didn't see the concerned look that crossed Harry's face as he was helped out, and as the door swung behind them, they could hear Snape telling Harry off for not getting on with his potion. Draco shook his head to try and clear it, but only succeeded in making himself even dizzier than before.

"Blaise?" he started. "I don't want to go to the hospital wing. Could you just get me to my room? I just need to sleep."

Blaise nodded, carefully. "Sure, Draco."

Draco was too tired to even see the gleam in her eyes.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Reality began to creep back into the edges of Draco's mind again, the world beginning to take shape through the darkness. The first thing he felt, an errant ache up the right side of his body and into his arm, was blocked out rapidly by the fact he couldn't breathe. He snorted away from whatever was blocking his nose and opened his eye, then immediately wished his hadn't. His nose twitched, the vague scent of lime soap trickled in, as well as something that was very black, very messy and very ...

  
  


Draco's eyes snapped open. "Harry?"  
  
Harry started awake, trying to sit up and crawl away at the same time, effectively tying himself in knot for all the good it did.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
"Harry, what the fuck--" Draco wrenched at his wrist and felt metal bite into the skin and pulse. "--oh, never mind."  
  
They both stared up at their handcuffed wrists.  
  
"I'm going to kill Blaise when I get out of this."  
  
Harry glared at him. "How do you know she did it?"  
  
"Because, Potter, she's the only person who could have, albeit Alena."  
  
"Why not Hermione? Or me?"  
  
Draco stared in disbelief. "Hermione? Do this? No Gryffindor could have had the audacity to break into the Slytherin common room, pick the lock on my trunk and then find the hidden compartment in my trunk without having their hand severed off. Oh, no, this was definitely an inside job!"  
  
Harry grunted, before directing attention elsewhere. "How are we going to get out?"

"How the fuck should I know, Potter?"

Harry clenched his hand together into a rough fist. "Stop calling me Potter, Draco."

"Why the hell should I?" Snarled Draco.

Harry looked at him carefully for a moment, before nodding to himself. "You've been avoiding me." Draco suddenly felt a little aprehensive, and Malfoy's were not designed to feel anything but in-control. 

"No, I haven't." When in doubt, Inner-Draco said, deny everything.

"Yes, you have."

"No, I haven't. You're the ones who been avoiding me, Potter, but it's not like I care whether you grace me with your estimed prescence or not." Draco sneered, watching Harry's temper grow behind his blazing green eyes. There was a shocked silence.

"You prat. I thought you didn't want anything do to with me! I was trying to give you some space!"

"Well, you obviously prefer the company of your precious Gryffindorks!"

"Don't speak about my friends that way!"

"Oh, and now we see where your loyalties really lie, don't we, Potter?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I came here to make sure you were okay. You looked like death warmed over in Potions!"

"Pull the other one, Potter! Why don't you run back and buddy up again to Weasley, if you're so uninterested in associating with us meer mortals."

"Come off it! Malfoy, you've been strutting around here for years like you own the joint. What am I to you? You're version of slumming it?"

"Look in the mirror, Harry. Who's the one playing all buddy-buddy with three Slytherins. Didn't your mother tell you never to associate with people like us?"

A shocked silence. Draco suddenly had a quiet inclining that he may have just gone too far.

"You're the one who pushed me away!" yelled Harry, suddenly.

"You're the one who keeps running away!" Draco yelled back fiercely.

Suddenly, Draco grabbed Harry's face and kissed him, hard. Harry made a kind of muffled grunt of surprised as he found his mouth invaded by a slick, clumsy tongue, lapping at his.

Harry's one free hand reached up behind Draco's head and held it tightly in place, his fingers stronger than Draco ever imagined they would be.

The kiss was a terrible one; not like the first kiss, a sweet, tentative question; or the second, a one-sided explanation; or even the third, an impulsive, inexperienced cliff-hanger. This was raw and aching. Draco's tongue, Harry's gasps against his mouth, over-balancing back onto the covers, Draco's right hand at a painful angle, the handcuff chain gangling against the metal bar it was hooked around.

When they finally came up for air, gasping a little, Draco still twisted up awkwardly, Harry's bottom lip slightly bruised from the force of the kiss.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well," he started, his hair delightfully ruffled. "It's like that is it?"

Draco growled. "Shut up, Potter."

They moved in for another kiss. 

And were rudely interrupted.

"Miss Zabini, stand aside!"  
  
The door was flung open and Professor McGonagall stared into the room, her eyes widening at the sight of Harry and Draco wrapped around each other, their handcuffed arms reaching towards the head of the bed, Draco's shirt looking slightly worse for wear due to Harry's impatient fingers. Blaise and Hermione peered around her, the first amused, the second apologetic.  
  
Professor McGonagall's lips pinched together.  
  
Harry stiffened, Draco smirked.  
  
"Mister Potter, Professor Dumbledore needs to see you."  
  
Draco stopped smirking.  
  
~~ ~~~ ~~  
  
TBC  
  
~~ ~~~ ~~  


Amy's Notes:

Firstly, I want to apologise for the absurd amount of time that I have taken over this chapter. It's been a long time, and I promise you, this will never happen again. Between a two-month stint of writers block, and starting a new job, life has been rather crazy, and Shadows kind of got lost in the works somewhere along the way.

But enough of my excuses.

I'd like to state that OotP has absolutely no bearing on Shadows. It will contain no spoilers and is completely separate, our own little, private version of events of Harry and Draco's fifth year. Enough said.

  
  


Thanks:

To everyone who has reviewed, whether is be on ff.net, FictionAlley, Monochrome Shadows or anywhere else where this is held. For all the people who have sent us emails, or flagged us down on AOL or Y!M, or stopped by our personal LiveJournals. Your support is invaluable, and we thank you so much for then time you have taken to make this as special for you as it is for us.

Special thanks to Natasha, who has been, firstly patient, then inpatient, then finally, really, really pissed off with me. She's the reason I keep going on this, and I am humbled to be working with her.

Thanks also to my ideas taster, Ishuca, who made me scrap two scenes that really didn't work and got me to rewrite them.

  
  


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	14. Harry: Taboo

**Natasha's Pre-Fic Note:** Normally we don't put our notes at the beginning of the fic, but I feel that this is necessary. It's been about a year since we last updated, and so I shall make it clear that THIS FIC IS NOW AU. It still takes place in fifth year, the Blaise in this fic is a girl, Sirius is not dead, etc. Now, on with the fic.

* * *

**The Spaces Between Shadow & Night**  
by: Silver Prophet  
the combined talents of:  
silverphoenix & poetic licence

Chapter 13  
_Taboo_

As they were led up to Dumbledore's office by a thin-lipped Professor McGonagall, Harry kept stealing glances at Draco, trying to gauge what he was thinking. The Slytherin was as composed as normal, staring straight ahead and paying no heed to anyone else, despite the fact that his hair was thoroughly messed up and his lips were red.

Harry could not help but wonder what _he_ looked like, and kept trying to catch a glimpse of himself in passing suits of armour. However, either the house elves had neglected to clean the armour, or they were moving too fast, and so Harry could only see himself as a moving blur.

Hermione and Blaise hung back behind himself, Draco and McGonagall, whispering to each other and trying to stay out of McGonagall's line of sight and hearing. However, the Deputy Headmistress was clearly aware of their presence as when she commanded the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office to move, the turned to look at them before ushering them up the stairs along with Harry and Draco, although ordered them to wait outside the office itself.

Once Harry and Draco were inside the office, McGonagall said nothing to Dumbledore, but instead walked straight into his fireplace and disappeared, her face still set in a stony look of disapproval.

"Please take a seat, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy."

Harry looked around the office, blankly. Where exactly did Dumbledore expect them to sit? For once, the only seat that Harry could see in Dumbledore's office was the one that Dumbledore himself was sat on. Wordlessly, the headmaster gave his wand an impatient flick, and two squashy armchairs chairs spun into existence, coming to a halt facing the old man's desk.

Silently the two boys sat down, not looking at one another. Perhaps it was grim look on Professor Dumbledore's face juxtaposed against the armchairs that unnerved Harry most, but perhaps it was the fact that Harry heard a total of twenty-five impatient _tick_s from one of the clocks on the walls before Dumbledore spoke. Even the portraits on the walls, those that were awake anyway, were looking curiously at the old wizard.

"Do either of you know why I have asked you here?" Dumbledore asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw that Draco looked as confused as Harry himself was. "I assumed that it had something to do with what just happened and Blaise and Hermione..." Draco trailed off timidly as the headmaster shook his head slightly.

"I shall be speaking to both Miss Granger and Miss Zabini about their lack of decorum later. I, however, am not concerned at the moment about the fraternising of a couple of my students, regardless of who they might be."

Harry had always found the expression 'reading between the lines' a peculiar one. How could you read between the lines? There was nothing between the lines except empty space. Except now he could see it. When Dumbledore said _regardless of who they might be_, he in fact meant _even if they are both boys_. This knowledge was somewhat reassuring.

Dumbledore continued, his hands folded on the desk in front of him. "As far as I am aware, you are aware of the situation concerning Harry's godfather, Sirius Black."

Draco looked even more confused, but nodded anyway.

"And you are aware of Lucius Malfoy's," Dumbledore paused momentarily, trying to find a delicate way of phrasing what he wanted to say, "_allegiances_, Harry?"

Dumbledore was asking Harry if he knew that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. He nodded. Of course he knew; it was a thinly veiled secret that only those who did not believe Voldemort had returned would not acknowledge, much like those who simply chose to ignore it.

"Good." The headmaster seemed satisfied with these answers. He nodded, processing this information.

"Sirius is missing."

His announcement rang around the cluttered office, and even the many ticking clocks fell silent. Harry felt like someone had punched him. Looking at Draco, he saw that the Slytherin showed the sort of look one has when told that a distant relative with whom one is only briefly acquainted has died: you have a connection with them, certainly, but, unless they happen to have left a vast amount of money to you in their will, you're not in the least bit concerned.

This look, after a moment, turned into one of recognition and loathing.

"My father."

Again, Dumbledore nodded and Harry went cold. "We believe that Lucius was heavily involved in discovering the location of Sirius."

Harry was glad that Dumbledore referred to Drano's father as Lucius - by not calling him Draco's father he made him sound more distant and less connected to Draco and so Harry could feel free to any hatred for him without fear of offending Draco. Judging by Draco's response to hearing this revelation that his father was involved in kidnapping, Harry had the feeling that Draco would not have taken any offence whatsoever.

Finding his voice, Harry asked, "What's being done to get him back?"

Dumbledore said nothing.

"Something's being done, isn't it?" Harry demanded, feeling completely and utterly betrayed. "You're not just going to leave him in the hands of that bastard as you..." realising what he had just called Lucius Malfoy in front of the headmaster, his face flushed and he stammered, "Well, I erm, I mean that..."

Draco on the other hand, said, "I shouldn't worry. My grandparents weren't married until he was three months old, so doesn't that technically make him a bastard anyway?"

Harry did not know, and the headmaster did not respond to his question. Instead, the headmaster addressed Harry. "Sirius's rescue is still being planned - it has not been confirmed yet that he has been kidnapped by Lucius, although this is our most likely theory. We would also need to use quite a few people for this and, quite frankly, we haven't got that sort of muscle yet."

Harry only vaguely registered what Dumbledore was saying, although from what he could gather, he had people working for him, Harry did not know whom, but there were not enough of them. He felt sick. Surely all Dumbledore would have to do was alert the Ministry. After all, they had Aurors and Enforcers and... Except that was exactly what Dumbledore _could not_ do. Sirius, as much as Harry hated the fact, was still a wanted fugitive. Even if the Aurors were to retrieve him from Malfoy Manor or wherever Lucius Malfoy was keeping him, Lucius would no doubt just get thanks from the authorities for capturing this 'dangerous' criminal.

"I think I should go," Harry said after a moment. "I want to be alone." He stood up, pushing his chair back angrily. The whole situation was so... _stupid_. Wouldn't things have just been easier if Sirius had stayed in Azkaban?

I shouldn't think like that, Harry scolded himself, as he wrenched open the door to the headmaster's office, Dumbledore not attempting to make Harry stay. As he stepped through the door and nearly ran down the stairs, he only caught a glimpse of Hermione and Blaise's confused faces from where they were sat on the stairs, waiting to go into Dumbledore's office.

I really shouldn't think like that.

Hermione had been pestering Harry for the last half and hour, ever since they had left Potions, trying to get him to show her his last Potions essay, which Snape had marked with the official OWL grading scheme. Hermione had been positively glowing about her O, although she told him she needed to do a lot more revision if she wanted to get a top E, but Harry had been rather embarrassed by his D. He had yet to show it to her, but he doubted that she had actually noticed this as he had been somewhat withdrawn since the news of Sirius's disappearance. Draco had clearly informed the girls of what Dumbledore had told them, and all three had been suitably quiet about the whole affair, not mentioning it unless Harry did.

It was another month until the OWL exams. In the meantime it was the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin Quidditch match the following weekend (merely a formality to decide second and third places in Harry's opinion; Gryffindor were winning by more than enough points to clinch the title again, and Slytherin and Ravenclaw were quite evenly matched. Hufflepuff had clearly lost the championship, although they had been surprisingly upbeat about it.

However, this weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend and Harry was not going to let a bad Potions mark get in his way of ruining it. He and Draco were planning to spend the day with the others, although Alena had said something about being a fifth wheel and had said vaguely that she had plans. Harry had been sure she was lying, but Alena insisted that she was only going to stay with them for 'a Butterbeer or two'.

Harry was now sat pouring over _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ after Draco had recommended it. He had given it a raving review, and, to Harry's annoyance, had accidentally given away several important parts of the plot. Turning the page, he recalled seeing a boxed set of all the _Narnia_ books in Dudley's bedroom back in Privet Drive. However, like all books that Dudley owned, they were just there to look good and had in fact been collecting dust for the last ten years.

To his left, Hermione and Seamus were being sickeningly couple-like, Hermione's Potions notes forgotten. Ron was playing a game of chess against Ginny on the far side of the common room, and Harry was sure that Ron kept looking over at him. Fred and George were staging a duel while the other seventh years looked on, some sporting minor injuries or even tentacles from spells that had missed their target. Matilda was staring intently at the twins, although she looked distinctly bored.

Was it just Harry, or did the auburn haired seventh year look not so much like the girl he'd first spoken to at the beginning of the year, as a walking skeleton. As he sat staring at her, she suddenly looked over at him, her eyes locking with his for a second, and making Harry feel rather faint. She might not look the same physically, but her eyes had the same intense, driven passion that had always been there.

Harry tore his eyes away, forcing himself to concentrate on Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy's current predicament.

When he tried to get to sleep that night, he could not get those eyes out of his head.

At around half past eight the following morning, someone whistling in his dormitory awaked Harry. Scrambling for his glasses, Harry shoved them onto his face, missing his right ear as he did so. Seamus' green-clad form swam into view. He was sat on his bed, tying up the laces on his trainers. Harry struggled into a sitting position, rearranging his glasses to their correct position.

Seamus noticed Harry at this point and bit his lip. "Did I wake yeh?" he asked. "Sorry 'bout that."

"'S'alright," mumbled Harry pushing back the bed clothes. "What time it is?"

"Nine thirty four and fifty three seconds," was Seamus' reply as he looked at his watch.

"Thanks."

Within ten minutes, Harry somehow managed to get washed, dressed and his hair into a reasonable state. All without putting his foot in his hat once.

Practically running into the common room, Harry found it empty, save for one lone figure that was sat reading the latest edition of a magazine called _The Quibbler_. Harry wondered what it could be about, as he had never heard of it before. On closer inspection, the person proved to be Matilda.

"Not going to Hogsmeade?" Harry asked quietly.

She looked up at him, her unblinking gaze giving Harry a slight chill. "My other half thinks it isn't a good idea. For once I'm inclined to agree." She gave him a grin, despite herself. "Are you going?"

"Yeah, I'm supposed to be meeting the others. Where is George, anyway?"

"Getting me some breakfast." At that moment, a familiar redhead appeared through the portrait hole, carrying a heavy-looking tray of breakfast foods. "Speak of the devil," Matilda added.

Plonking the tray down on the table beside Matilda, George grinned at Harry. "Hang on, "he said a moment later. "Aren't you going to Hogsmeade with Hermione and Seamus?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I just passed 'em - they're on their way to the Entrance Hall."

Harry rolled his eyes. No doubt they were so wrapped up in each other that they had forgotten about him. Grabbing a piece of toast from the tray, Harry called, "Thanks!" as he ran out of the common room.

He arrived only moments after Hermione and Seamus. Looking at them, Harry had a feeling that he would not be able to pry one from the other for the entire day. Draco and Alena were also present, chatting quietly and looking like complete opposites. As usual, Alena was wearing her trademark rainbow socks and black boots while Draco had opted for a more conservative charcoal grey-and-black ensemble.

When he saw Harry, he gave him one of those rare smiles that actually reached his eyes. Alena happened to see this as well, and she rolled her eyes in mock disgust, although she greeted Harry with a fierce hug that nearly knocked him off his feet.

They chose to walk down to Hogsmeade as it was a pleasant day, although the breeze carried a cold chill with it. Harry found this rather unnerving for some inexplicable reason, but said nothing.

Walking down the path towards Hogsmeade, they stopped for a moment while Alena tied up her shoelace. Looking around, Harry noticed that they were stood outside a small farm; several sheep were milling around, and a couple of Crups were barking noisily, wagging their forked tails. From somewhere there was the sound of a cockerel. Harry looked at his watch. It was a little after ten. Weren't cocks supposed to crow at dawn? He had a vague suspicion that this was a bad omen, but then decided he was being paranoid; all those years of Divination with Trelawney were bound to have affected him in some way.

As they approached the Three Broomsticks, Harry was half-listening to Alena and Seamus' animated conversation about the dismal performance put on by the Holyhead Harpies in their last match. Alena guided them over to an empty table (it was far too early to be busy, although there were already several patrons in the pub), her boots clunking loudly on the wooden floor.

"I need coffee!" Draco announced loudly, and Hermione and Alena seconded this. After finding out what everyone wanted to drink, Hermione and Alena went over to the bar where Madam Rosemerta was busy polishing a pint glass. Harry watched as the landlady greeted them warmly.

"Harry? D'you think I should... y'know, invite Hermione to my house over the summer?" Seamus asked, bringing Harry's attention back to the table. "Only, me mam keeps telling me to do it, but I think it's too soon."

Harry was surprised at this question. "Why are you asking me?"

Seamus looked embarrassed. "Well, you're her best friend. I thought maybe you'd know what she'd say if I asked her."

"You'll never know what she'll say unless you ask her," pointed out Draco coolly.

"I didn't ask you, Malfoy," Seamus said, casting a hard glare at the Slytherin.

The girls returned with the drinks a couple of minutes later, giggling about some private joke before sliding into their seats. Draco eagerly poured himself a large cup of coffee while Harry watched him, amused, before picking his glass of pumpkin juice from the tray.

He nearly dropped his glass however, at the sound of breaking glass. Draco smirked in amusement at this, and Hermione said, "It's probably just Zonko's. You know that some of the demonstrations can get a bit _lively_."

"Lively?" echoed Seamus. "It sounds bloody deadly."

That was when all the windows in the Three Broomsticks blew out, sending glass flying everywhere and patrons scrambling to get out of the way of the debris. People were screaming, a sound that added to the chaos and confusion. There was a loud _crack_ and a group of black-clad wizards with masks appeared in the middle of the pub, their wands out and eyes barely visible behind their masks.

When the glass had started flying, Harry and the others had ducked under the table, although not early enough to avoid injury - Hermione was sporting a nasty gash on her cheek and Draco's knuckles were bleeding.

"What's going on?" hissed Alena.

"How'm I supposed to know?" Draco replied, collected as ever. If the situation had been different, Harry would have rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.

"Everybody up!" The voice was magically distorted - it could have been male or female, young or old; no one could tell. All Harry knew was that if he got out of this situation he would be having nightmares about that voice for a long time.

Despite the fact that he could feel himself shaking, Harry and the others reluctantly crawled out from under the table. There was something about the tone of this voice that told you that you should not disobey it.

Harry felt the group of Death Eaters stare at him, for he recognised the robes and masks from the previous year, instantly recognising him. Judging by their reactions, they had not known he was there.

"Harry Potter," another voice hissed. Harry was not sure which Death Eater it came from. He, for Harry assumed it was a he, sounded faintly surprised. "Come here."

"No." Even Harry was surprised by the firmness of his tone.

One of the Death Eaters raised his wand, pointing it. "_Avada Kedavra_."

Madam Rosemerta was dead.

"Come _here_," the voice repeated. "Or someone else will die."

"No."

Two of the Death Eater's shot spells into the air, making the ceiling crack, and sag dangerously in the middle. Bits of plaster and cobwebs began to float down, covering the tables and people's robes with a fine white powder. Someone started coughing and was immediately hexed by a Death Eater.

"Very well. Who shall be next? One of your friends, perhaps?"

This time the wand was pointed directly at them, and as the cry of "_Avada Kedavra_!" went up, Harry felt as though everything had suddenly slowed down. There was a flash of green light, and a glowing green ball of energy shot out of the end of the Death Eater's wand, speeding towards them, agonizingly slowly.

Even as the curse was uttered, Seamus reacted, throwing himself across the table in a valiant aim to stop the curse from hitting Hermione. He succeeded.

Hermione began to scream at the sight of Seamus' body as there was another loud _crack _and a group of wizards in purple robes Apparated into the pub, firing spells at the Death Eaters. Some managed to escape, others were incapacitated.

Patrons were picking their way out of the rubble, even as the Aurors gained the upper hand, most nursing injuries of some kind. Just as the last Death Eater was magically subdued, a greying wizard with a beard nearly as long as he was tall let out a yell. "The ceiling! It's going to collapse!"

More confusion. People scrambled for the door. Clawing and fighting their way to get out. A loud creaking sound. Harry stood there in shock, only realising that he was not having another nightmare when he felt someone tugging on his sleeve.

"Come on, Harry," Alena was saying urgently, her voice rather distant. "We have to get out of here." Harry nodded mutely, turning around to where Hermione was stood, staring wordlessly at Seamus' body.

"_Hermione_," commanded Draco in a forceful tone. "We have to go."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't." Her voice was strangely high-pitched.

"_Yes, you can,_" Draco growled, forcibly taking a hold of her arms and pulling her with him. Harry looked at Seamus. He looked like he was sleeping.

Seamus was in fact two or three inches shorter than Harry, but a lot more solidly built whereas Harry was ganglier. Somehow, Harry couldn't be sure how, he managed to hoist Seamus over his shoulder and run out of the pub, nearly wrenching his shoulder out of joint in the process.

The entirety of Hogsmeade had arrived at the scene by now. A brief look around told Harry that some other Death Eaters had hit Zonko's just before the attack on the Three Broomsticks. Aurors were desperately trying to calm the crowd and he spotted Professors McGonagall and Flitwick trying to round up the Hogwarts students.

As gently as he could Harry laid Seamus down, trying not to look at him. His eyes were still wide open, a look of determination immortalised on his face. Draco had handed over the shell-shocked Hermione to Alena's care, and saw this. He pulled off his jacket laying it across Seamus' chest. A wave of his wand and it was transfigured into a black sheet.

"Harry! Hermione!" Bill Weasley was pushing his way through the crowd towards them, wand drawn and looking flustered. "Are you all right?" His long hair was a mess; somehow it had escaped from his usual ponytail and now hung limply around his worried face.

"Seamus isn't," Hermione said blankly, as though she were making idle conversation about the weather, and looking at the black sheet with wide, glassy eyes. Alena looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Oh, God." Bill was pale beneath his freckles. "Malfoy. Rhysen. You two okay?" The Slytherin girl nodded and Draco managed a meek 'yes'.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor waved over one of the Aurors, a young woman with short, violently blue hair. She gave him a less-than-cheerful greeting of "Wotcher, Weasley," before Bill told her in a choked voice about the casualty. She nodded and left, shouting something incomprehensible to one of her colleagues.

"Some Healers will be here in a minute," Bill said quietly. "That looks like it hurts," he said to Draco, nodding at his injured knuckles.

"I hadn't noticed," Draco replied in a distant voice, only then realising that he had somehow been injured.

"Are they doctors?" Harry asked.

Bill had to think about this. "Something like that," he said after a moment.

"Professor Weasley," Alena sounded like a shadow of her former self. "I think Professor McGonagall is coming this way."

Looking up from where he had been focusing on his shoes, Harry saw the tartan-clad professor heading in their direction, occasionally stopping to order Hogwarts students back to the castle.

Bill nodded, licking his lips. "I'll go and speak to her," he told Alena, his voice watery. "She should know about ... She's the Head of House ... I think that ..." Bill did not seem to be capable of complete sentences. He finished with an "Oh, God," and strode quickly over to the Head of Gryffindor.

The next few hours passed in something of a blur. Harry's mind could not quite register everything that was happening; memories of the Triwizard tournament mingled with images of the Three Broomsticks and faces. So many faces.

The masks. Hermione's chalk-white face. Alena crying freely. Draco's lip red from blood where he had bitten through. Bill's ashen expression. McGonagall crying.

Somehow, he was not entirely sure how, he found himself sat on the hard stone floor of the Charms corridor. There was silence. None of the suits of armour could be heard. Peeves' banging and catcalling had been put on hiatus. Apparently, even the poltergeist had some sort of respect.

"Is he a ghost?" Harry asked.

"I don't think so." Moaning Myrtle was unusually subdued. "And even if he was he wouldn't be much fun to share a toilet with. He likes to sing in the shower and he's never on key."

A pair of blazing green turned on the ghost. "Myrtle! That's... do you have any respect for the dead?" he asked angrily.

She blinked owlishly at him from behind her thick, ghostly glasses. Her bottom lip trembled. "That's right!" she exclaimed. "Forget I'm dead. No one cares about Myrtle. She's just a ghost. She doesn't have _feelings_."

"I …"

"Oh, don't bother apologising." Myrtle crossed her arms haughtily. She sniffed, tossing her pigtails over her shoulder. "Anyway, death's nothing to worry about - it happens to everyone eventually."

"It's not supposed to happen today."

"Who's to say that it wasn't?" Loudly, Myrtle sniffed, although Harry was glad that she was not trying to persuade him to share her toilet with him. She seemed to have a lot of say on the subject of death. "You won't see him again if he hasn't appeared by now - he'll have gone on."

"Gone where?"

Myrtle shrugged. "Well, I don't know. I chose to stay here when I died so I'm not allowed to know."

"What do you mean?"

"I was so scared when I died. And angry. So I chose to stay. I'm just an imitation of what I once was, Harry." Myrtle sniffed loudly. "No one really knows how it works. I hear that they study it in the Department of Mysteries. Course, the only people who truly know what happens are dead, aren't they?"

When Harry eventually found his way back to the common room, he was surprised to find Hermione sat with Ron. Fred and Ginny were sat there too in silence, the chess set lying forgotten on the table. Ginny had clearly been crying; make-up stained her face, her eyes red. Fred's eyes were trained on the floor.

Curious as to why Hermione was sat by the Weasleys, Harry made his way over to them. Upon spotting him, Hermione rose and enveloped in him a bone-crushing hug. "God, Harry, I was so worried about you," she breathed. "Where've you been?" She began to sob into his shoulder, and Harry held her close to him.

"Just around," Harry told her blankly. "Please stop crying, Hermione. You're going to make me cry in a minute." He could already feel the tears prickling behind his eyes.

She sniffed putting back, her eyes watery with tears. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't help it. First Seamus, now this. I don't think it's ever going to be the same again."

"Now what?" Harry asked. Had something else happened?

"You mean you don't know?" Fred asked hoarsely. Harry looked at him, shaking his head.

Hermione looked fearfully up at Harry, as though she could not bring herself to say what she wanted. She bit her lip, and then took a deep breath. "Matilda … she died this morning."

Ron and Fred were waiting silently at the bottom of the stairs up the dormitories when Harry came down. Fred gave him a glum, "Hullo, Harry," and Ron nodded his acknowledgment that Harry was present.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't you go down for breakfast before lessons start?"

"We're waiting to see if George'll come down," Fred explained, shoving his hands in his pockets. "He hasn't left his bed since ... well, y'know ..."

Harry nodded. The last three days for everyone in Gryffindor had been in a trance-like state. A group of fourth year girls had taken to crying every time they saw one of the Weasley's or Hermione and almost everyone in the house would simply not mention what had happened - the word 'death' was like a taboo and various euphemisms were cropping up in place of it. Some members of the house even refused to acknowledge that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

In the fifth year dormitory, no one had touched any of Seamus' belongings and the half-eaten bar of chocolate on his bedside table had been left there. Dean Thomas refused to go to that part of the room, though he had respectfully drawn the curtains on Seamus' bed. Now it was as if Seamus was permanently asleep.

Neville had started having nightmares where he would wake up with a yell. None of the others would criticize him for this though, and Harry had even heard Ron tell a sobbing Neville that he was not alone in his nightmares.

"How is he?" Harry asked quietly.

"He won't talk to anyone." Ron's voice was wooden, but Harry could not tell if this was because he was talking to Harry or because he did not like talking about Matilda's death.

"Even me," Fred added. "I've never seen him like this before. I've never seen _anyone _like this before, except our great-aunt Ethel when great-uncle Baldrick passed away. 'Cept I was only five and I don't remember it very well."

From the staircase leading up to the girl's dormitories, Hermione appeared, sombrely dressed and looking more like she had the previous year, as though she had regressed into her old persona, who she had been before the summer and who she had been before Seamus had been a large part of her life.

"Morning Hermione," Harry said. She gave him a weak smile, walking over to him and the Weasleys.

"Is this some kind of meeting?" she asked, trying to sound upbeat, but her eyes betrayed the fact that she had barely been sleeping.

"We're waiting for George," Fred informed her, and Harry realised that he must have been telling this to almost every person who had come down the stairs.

"Is he still not down yet?" Hermione's eyes widened and she looked genuinely concerned.

"Nope," Harry said.

In a determined fashion, Hermione pushed back her sleeves. "I'm going to go and talk to him," she announced, looking much more like her normal self and already starting up the stairs.

"Hermione, I'm his _twin_ and he won't even talk to me," Fred pointed out. "What makes you think he's going to talk to you?"

She paused, halfway up the stairs and turned around. "I said I was going to talk _to_ him - he doesn't have to talk back."

When she had disappeared from sight up the stairs, there was a moment of silence before a door shut loudly. The three in the common room seemed to hold their breath. Would Hermione and George appear a moment later? Would Hermione come back down, defeated by George's silence?

As it was, neither of these happened. After a brief silence a voice, most definitely Hermione's, could be heard yelling from upstairs, though her words could not be heard. George yelled something back at her and she was quick to retaliate.

"Well," said Fred with a triumphant grin.

"Looks like she's got him talking again," commented Ron brightly, and Harry nodded, although to be honest he was more interested in what Hermione and George were fighting about.

"Breakfast, anyone?" Fred asked.

  
TBC

**Natasha's Note:** Erm, yeah. It's been a bit of a long time since an update, hasn't it? Patience is a virtue, and if you've been waiting for this, you are far more virtuous than myself. 

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